


Of Mending and the Bones

by dreabean



Series: The Bone Collectors [4]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming of Age, Disease Curing, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Medicine, Multi, Murder Dad and Knife Dad, Semi-Public Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Other Other Other One where Daud has a Heart, Whale Satan, Whale Satan Approves, Wreckage and Recovery, the final chapter, the land of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: Corvo and Daud are back, but while they had to survive the Void, Emily had to survive something far worse. Now, she struggles to find a place in the upper echelon of Dunwall, reunite her friends and family, cure the Plague, and learn to live with being Empress.The Final Chapter of the Bone Collectors series.





	1. 1. EMILY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Troodon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/gifts).



> Y'all. _Y'all._ **Y'ALL.**
> 
> This is the last book of the Bone Collectors. 
> 
> This is for my beloved Dani, Estora, Aeniala, captainkitkatmunch, taywen, MeTheAmazing, and everyone who has stuck with me on this OVER A YEAR LONG (???) journey. I love you all so much, thank you for everything.
> 
> Enjoy the final chapters.

“You’re not going to talk me out of it,” she says, not facing them. “I’m  _ going _ to find out what happened to her, and I don’t care how many guards I could send instead.”

There’s a short pause. 

“Did I say anything?” Corvo asks, tone mild.

Emily can hear the smile in his voice. It’s been a year since she’s heard him sound so warm and fond. Her shoulders relax. 

“I don’t recall disagreeing with you, all sixteen times you’ve mentioned it to me.”

Emily scoffs, turning around. “It hasn’t been  _ sixteen _ ,” she protests. “It’s hardly even been two.”

Corvo grins at her. He’s still too thin, though his color has improved since the day he and Daud stumbled back out of the Void. The only sign he’s not the man he once was are his his eyes; one the brown she inherited, the other, silver-blue and lit faintly with Void-light. 

“I don’t know,” Daud murmurs from Corvo’s side. “I think you’re understating it. It’s been at least twenty times, at least that I remember.” 

She scowls. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”

“We are, Em,” Corvo says. “I’m certainly not going to stop you. You’ve more than proven you’re capable of sound decisions.” He hesitates, watching her carefully. “Do you want us to go with you?” 

Emily wants to say yes, so of course, she must say no. She’s spent the last year doing everything on her own, she doesn’t  _ need _ her father or Daud to come bail her out of every problem. That would just give everyone the wrong impression.

“No,” she says finally, after several seconds too long a pause. “I’ll bring Rinaldo and Alexi.” 

“And some extra guards,” Daud says. When Emily gives him a sharp look, he shrugs. “I don’t trust Ichabod Boyle and neither should you.”

She makes a face to that. “I don’t. He’s been terrible since he got here, but I’m not afraid of him.” There’s a part of that wants to say  _ what’s the worst that could happen _ , but every time she thinks the worst is over, everything always sinks to new lows.

They still haven’t found Thomas. 

Khulan had been as helpful as he could be, reassuring her of Thomas’ continued health, but refused to let her see him, release him, or pass any messages. Since the return of her Mark, she’s less willing to parley with Khulan, even if he’s not as bad as Overseer Martin.

“After the last six months, I’m not all that willing to let you out of my sight,” Corvo says.

And yet they had no trouble leaving her for a dead god they didn’t even know they could save in the first place. No trouble abandoning her to Dunwall and the Plague for those very six months, without even a backwards glance.

Emily’s heart twists in her chest.

“Well I survived,” she says, and some of her ire leaks through her voice, bladed and sharp. Corvo blinks at her tone. “If I take a contingent of guards, will you be appeased?”

Corvo exchanges a look with Daud. “You could take Sabina,” he says after a moment. 

Emily well remembers Aurelia’s expression when they’d told her that Sabina had died during the battle to fight off Delilah. Having her father come back with another magic crow answering to Sabina’s name instead of Jessamine’s was going to take some getting used to. 

“I can’t even understand her,” Emily says, exasperated. 

“She can understand you,” Corvo points out. “If you need help, she can find me immediately and we can come or send guards.” 

She doesn’t like that it’s a good idea. 

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll take Sabina.”

Corvo whistles, and when he does, the Mark on his hand flares a bright teal. There’s a sound of displaced air, and the Crow appears with a sprinkle of ash and feathers. She soars across the room, landing on Corvo’s shoulder. 

“Sabina, I need you to go with Emily, she’s going to Boyle Manor with Rinaldo and Alexi, and she might need backup.”

The Crow caws a response, and with another flare of Void-light, Emily feels her land on her own shoulder. Despite her size, the Crow doesn’t weight nearly enough. Emily can feel the cool brush of wingtips against her cheek. 

“Happy now?” Emily demands.

The Crow cackles something, sounding far too human. 

Corvo’s expression grows sadder for a second before he smiles at her. “You look just like your mother,” he murmurs. “Especially that expression.”

“Did you often annoy her?” Emily asks, lifting one eyebrow.

“I was her Royal Protector,” Corvo says. “I frequently annoyed her when I didn’t let her go haring off on her own.”  _ Like right now _ goes unsaid but is obvious all the same to Emily. 

Daud snorts. “By that logic, I should be going with you.” 

“Not until Sokolov clears you both,” Emily snaps. “You’re both still malnourished, and if you pass out because you were following me, I will be  _ very  _ annoyed with you.”

They look better, but they aren’t healed. 

Emily looks away from Corvo’s expression and her eyes catch on where Rulfio sleeps, two beds away. He too looks better, but is far from well. A black cloth has been wrapped around the empty eye socket, and the rest of the face has been covered with a salve that Sokolov insists will reduce scarification. 

His chest rises and falls without rattling, though the first two days he was in the infirmary, Sokolov had pronounced his condition plague-free but otherwise poor. He had fluid in his lungs from a particularly virulent strain of influenza, and like her fathers, was severely malnourished and dehydrated.

“I’ll be fine,” she insists. “And if something goes wrong, I’ll send Sabina back and you can come to the rescue.”

Daud nods. “Send Sabina if you need  _ anything, _ even if it isn’t dangerous,” he said.

“ _ I’ll be fine, dad _ ,” Emily says, with more emphasis. “I’ve been fine these last six months, I will be fine for two hours outside of the Tower.”

Corvo levers himself out of the bed, and if his hands still shake, she doesn’t mention it. He hugs her close, and even though Emily is angry with him, angry with both of them, she still clings to Corvo for the all too brief moment. 

“I missed you,” he whispers.

Not as much as Emily missed him and Daud when she needed them the most.

Emily hurries from the room before she can do or say something to give away her feelings. 

Sabina jumps off her shoulder and flies along above her. 

She meets Rinaldo and Alexi at the base of the Tower, Rinaldo smoking madly, several filters littering the ground around his feet. 

“I take it that you were released without too much fuss,” Rinaldo says, and he looks exhausted enough that Emily feels bad for asking him to come with her.

“I took the Crow,” Emily says, and Sabina swoops down to land on the lamppost next to them. “If something bad happens, she’ll be the first to know and she can travel like Corvo can.”

“That’s smart,” Alexi says with a grin, and Emily flushes. 

Rinaldo’s eyes zero in on the heat of her face, dragging his gaze from her to Alexi and back. Something knowing settles into his face and she scowls at him as soon as Alexi is out of earshot. 

“Shut up, Rin,” Emily hisses.

“I said nothing,” he said, looking more like his old self than he has since Rulfio went to Bottle Street without saying goodbye.

“You were thinking it.” 

The three of them get in the repaired carriage waiting outside of the Tower. 

“Where to, Your Majesty?” the conductor asks. 

“The Estate District, as close to Greasely Boulevard as you can, please,” Emily answers.

Once they’re on their way, Emily finally relaxes. It’s such a relief to be away from the Tower, and even more of a relief to know that she’s not fleeing Ramsey or Havelock anymore. Since Corvo removed Havelock from the premises, she has seen neither hide nor hair of him. 

Even better is Daud looming over her shoulder at the last council meeting when Ambrose brought up the the fact that Emily was now eligible once again. They’d backed off immediately, their sour expressions giving Emily’s life meaning.

They stop at a train crossing, letting the new steam trolleys cross their path. Emily looks out the window, her eyes raking the city’s streets and the citizens lined for the briefest glimpse of their Empress.

Ice crawls around her spine. 

Havelock is standing in the street, amongst the other citizens. And he’s staring directly at her.

She’s far enough that she can’t hear him, but close enough to see his mouth make the shape of her name. 

She should have killed him. Or Corvo should have. 

Emily clenches her fists, and the Void flares a little around her Mark, itching to be used. 

Rinaldo notices. He drops his hand down on hers. “What’s out there?” he asks.

She looks back out of the window, but Havelock is gone. The muscles in her back don’t unclench, even when she scans the street. “Nothing,” she says. “Just a trick of the light.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but she summons up a smile from somewhere and unclenches her hand, laying it flat against her leg. 

Emily is antsy for the rest of the trip, looking out the window for any sign of Havelock even though logically she knows he was left behind in the Royal District - if she’d even truly seen him at all - her muscles don’t unlock, perpetually tense as though she still expects him to appear out of thin air. He had been so good at that, back in the Tower. 

The Boyle manor is just as clean and pristine as she remembered from her childhood. Emily wonders how much they’d paid Delilah off to keep her witches from striping the place to the baseboards. Considering that Esma had been on the street with her daughter, Emily imagines that the price had included things they weren’t willing to give up.

Alexi rings the bell on the door. When the butler answers it, she says, “Empress Emily Kaldwin here to see Esma Boyle. You can tell Lady Boyle that Her Grace is waiting in the sitting room.” 

The butler looks taken aback, but when Alexi begins to walk forward, he hastens out of her way. Emily follows her. Rinaldo brings up the rear, and when Emily whistles softly, she can just faintly hear the sound of displaced air somewhere above her, where Sabina has made her vantage point.

The butler takes them to a sitting room, and leaves them there with a stone cold glare, and icy silence as he takes his leave to inform Esma of their arrival. “That was  _ masterful _ ,” Rinaldo says with a grin at Alexi. 

“You want to know my secret?” Alexi asks, smirking at him. When Rinaldo and Emily nod, she grins. “I just focus on where I want to go, start walking, and think;  _ murder _ .”

“No wonder people always get out of your way,” Emily says, returning her grin.

“It’s helpful when you’re the only female guard currently on the force. Curnow is really great, but some of the other, older guards are assholes about it. Thinking murder as I walk toward them is helpful.”

Rinaldo sighs. “You’re giving her ideas, Lex.”

“Good,” Alexi says. “She needs a good murder walk.”

Emily smiles and lets them bicker, the sound washing over her. She’s still on edge, and she crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for Esma. Eventually she can hear voices arguing, and she recognizes Ichabod’s nasal protestations long before the doors to the room actually open.

Esma walks in first, with Ichabod at her heels. “Nephew, I’m not sure  _ why _ you think you are the man of the house, but when the Empress comes to pay you a personal visit,  _ you go _ ,” Esma snaps at him. She turns to Emily. “Hello, Emily, it’s nice to see you again.”

Emily stands. “Lady Boyle, likewise. I’m afraid I’ve come for business rather than pleasure, though.”

“Of course, have a seat.” Esma sat down on the ornate couch, scowling at Ichabod until he did the same. 

Emily waits until Esma has settled herself before saying, “I’ve come to ask you to rejoin the Council.”

Ichabod doesn’t even give Esma a chance to respond. He stands with a sharp movement that makes Rinaldo put his hand on his blade. 

“ _ You are removing me _ ?” Ichabod snaps, red faced and seething.

“Did I say that?” Emily asks, mildly. Ichabod fell silent, though he continued to glare. “Esma, I found your contributions to the council were inspired, and if I am to lead Dunwall back to it’s old state, I need all the help the nobility are willing to give. You of course, can say no, but I would consider it a very great favor if you returned.”

Again, Ichabod snaps, “And what about  _ me _ , Empress?”

Annoyed, Emily looks him over. “What  _ about _ you, Master Boyle?”

Ichabod spluttered.

“This meeting was neither for you or about you,” Emily continues, enjoying a sudden surge of ruthlessness, “though you seem to have invited yourself along. I did not request Esma to replace you, though you certainly had no compunctions doing so yourself.”

Ichabod draws back, his mouth opened to speak, but Esma beats him to it. “If you’re quite finished, Nephew?”

That makes him subside, but only just, settling back on the couch with a surly expression. 

“I’d be delighted to rejoin the council, Empress,” Esma says. There’s something odd in her tone that Emily can’t quite identify. “Though from what I gathered, you were quite tired of my progressive ideals. Why the change of heart?”

Emily blinks. “...What?” 

For the first time, Esma looks a little less than composed. “You sent your Admiral to send me away from the council,” she says. Her tone is mild, as though she doesn’t care in the slightest, but Esma’s eyes glint with a flash of - hurt. “He always had your ear, and your confidence, so when he said you needed someone more politically inclined, and I was unsuitable, he spoke with your voice.”

Empresses aren’t supposed to show how they feel, Havelock had said it to her enough times over the last half year, but Emily feels gutted. Her stomach drops, and she can feel cold sweat break out over the back of her neck. 

“Havelock said that?” she whispers.

“Though I’d love to blame Ichabod, he didn’t usurp my position,” Esma says. “He was  _ given  _ it.”

Ichabod settles back into the couch. “Admiral Havelock told me you approved it yourself, Empress.”

“I didn’t,” Emily says immediately. “I would never send someone to do my work like that, Esma. I was upset to see you gone, and whatever the circumstances of your parting, I’d like to see you returned.”

Esma’s expression is unreadable. “I see,” she murmurs. “You truly didn’t know?”

Rinaldo clears his throat. “If I may, Empress?” 

Emily doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to Rinaldo calling her that. She nods, allowing Rinaldo to continue.

“Lady Boyle, I was there the day that the Empress went to the council chamber and found you missing. Her surprise and shock was genuine.”

Esma’s eyes narrows. “Then it was Admiral Havelock who ousted me?” she demands.

Emily doesn’t want to agree, but there’s no other explanation that she can think of. “Admiral Havelock is no longer a part of the Tower,” she says, instead of answering the question directly. “Perhaps his decisions were well-meaning, but they were not mine, and I would still like you to return, Esma.”

“The other nobles may complain that there are two Boyles on the council,” Esma cautions after a moment. 

“In that case,” Emily says, “the other nobles should have returned to Dunwall to be invited onto the council in the first place.” While she can’t exactly blame the nobility for fleeing Dunwall in the wake of Delilah’s chaos, she absolutely can blame them for staying away for so long after her removal. 

Esma smiles. “That is true.” She looks over at her nephew. “The trade agreement becomes mine again and you’re welcome to stay on,” she says to him. 

Ichabod looks like he wants to argue but Emily turns her sharp gaze on him, as does Esma and Alexi. 

“Fine,” he subsides. “We will go to the next meeting together, Aunt Esma.”

“Then we have an agreement,” Esma says pleasantly. “Feel free to make house visits whenever you like, Empress. My original offer to you still stands. Duponte will show you out.”

She sweeps from the room, Ichabod striding after her. 

Duponte, the butler, waits by the doorway, holding it open for them. Emily glances at Alexi when she stands from the couch.

“You were thinking  _ murder _ just then weren’t you?” she murmured.

Alexi grins at her. “Empress, I’m  _ always _ thinking  _ murder _ .”

*

The servants drop off her letters everyday at the same time, though Emily never receives anything of note. The most she gets are missives from the Whalers who were left in Karnaca, and the rest are inquiries into the trade agreement, when the blockade will break, or otherwise asking for money or help.

Emily sifts through the junk until she comes to a letter written in an unfamiliar hand, marked posted from the Royal Quarter, and abbreviated ‘J.M.’ as the sender.

She breaks the wax sealing on the envelope and opens the letter.

As she reads the contents of the letter, cold dread sinks deep into her gut, her chest, her heart.

_ Dearest Emily,  _ the letter says, and her hands begin to shake.

_ You must forgive me this impersonal form of communication; since my removal from the Tower at the hands of your recently-returned Spymaster, I've been similarly barred from attempts to visit you in person. I fear my previous letters have not reached you, either. As such, I have taken a more unorthodox approach to ensure this one is not censored and burned by your Spymaster before it can reach your hands and eyes. _

_ At first order, I first wish to reassure you that I am not angry with you. Instead, I fear for you - not for the Empress, but for the the girl who was thrust upon the throne and abandoned by those she trusted.  _

_ I expect your Lord Protector had his reasons to slay Mortimer Ramsey like a rabid hound in the middle of your palace. Whatever Lord Ramsey's crimes were, I know that under the Empire you wish to lead, every person, no matter what they stand accused of, deserve a fair trial. I do not blame you for that execution; I doubt you had any particular say in it, and that is what makes me fear for you.  _

_ You are young, Emily, and idealistic; I admire that, as I admired it in your mother. These are difficult times of immense upheaval. It is only natural to cling to the personalities that are familiar to you - Lord Attano, and the former assassin Daud - but I implore you to not let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. I've no doubt that they both care for you, in their own ways, but recent events have shown me - and, I hope, yourself - that they care more for their magic than they care for you. _

_ I saw you pass in the carriage car not too long ago, Emily. Perhaps this is no longer my concern, but it must be someone's. You look exhausted, and you must sleep more. Know that your health, your wellbeing, was, and remains, of utmost importance to me. You are not just the Empress of the Isles - you are Emily Kaldwin. And I fear you must feel very alone. _

_ Should you still hold affection for me, as I do you, you may return this correspondence to the Ramsey household. If you do not, I will not trouble you again. But know that no matter how many days or months or years pass, my door will always be open to you. I will always be on your side, Emily. _

_ Forever, and faithfully yours, _

_ Farley _

*tbc


	2. 2. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When the barricade falls, the entire city goes up in lights._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this is for my beloved Dani, estora, Aeniala and everyone who commented, sent asks, or messages. You have been such a support to me this last year. Special thanks to taywen for the read through, and fixing my tense issues. Eff tense, y'all.
> 
> As ever, I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs. I follow back and enjoy conversation.
> 
> As for this chapter... we do earn our rating. :)

When the barricade falls, the entire city goes up in lights. 

Due to the fortuitous timing, Khulan calls for a Fugue Feast with the first influx of imported goods, and though Corvo thinks it’s unnecessary, Emily certainly disagrees. “What better way to bring in the new year?” she asks him, and Corvo sighs. Dunwall is better, certainly, but it has hardly healed from its five year ordeal with Delilah, and he well remembers Jessamine’s penchant for slipping him during Fugue Feast.

“It seems risky,” is all Corvo says and Emily rolls her eyes. “I remember what your mother was like during Fugue, don’t make that face at me.”

Emily’s insolent attitude dissolves under curiosity immediately. “What  _ was _ mother like during Fugue Feast?” she asks.

“She…” Corvo doesn’t often speak of Jessamine, still raw after her death and rawer still after her goodbye in the Void. “She drove me crazy,” he admits. “Before she started spending them with me, she would go out into the city, and slip her tails within the first hour.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Emily says, reaching out to touch his arm briefly. “I’m not going out into the city.”

Since Emily isn’t quite eighteen, Corvo is glad for that. “You could if you wanted to,” he says instead of pointing out her age, feeling that mentioning it would only anger his already emotional daughter.

There’s something haunted in her eyes when she shakes her head. “No, I think it’s best I stay in,” she says. “There’s no one I would want to spend it with out there.”

The way she says it makes Corvo eye her in suspicion. “ _ Is  _ there someone you want to spend it with?” he asks, half-teasing, half-interrogatory.

Emily pulls a face, wrinkling her nose. “... No?” she says, and Corvo snorts. “... There might have been someone. But I wouldn’t want to find them on Fugue anyway.”

Corvo wraps an arm around her for a brief hug. She stiffens before leaning into him, and Corvo is more sorry than ever that he’d been in the Void for so long. “I hated it when Jessamine left me behind for Fugue,” he says, “it never sat well with me.”

“Because you worried for her safety?”

Corvo shook his head. “No, Jessamine could take care of herself, especially when she wasn’t confined to courtly fashions. I knew she’d be safe.” Emily turns in his arms, looking up at him and he smiles in remembrance. “She went on Fugue to keep up appearances. Despite our relationship, which was more or less a secret at the time, she had to be seen leaving from and returning to, the Tower.”

Emily’s eyes grow huge. “She was unfaithful?”

“I don’t believe so,” Corvo answers. “Fugue Feast was different -  _ is _ different.”

That doesn’t seem to appease Emily any, and she curls her fingers into his jacket. “Are you - not going to spend this Feast with Daud then?”

“I suppose that depends on Daud,” Corvo says with a smile. “If he doesn’t want to go out, we’ll both stay in.”

Emily’s shoulders relax. “Alexi,” she murmurs, apropos of nothing. “That’s - who I would spend Fugue Feast with. If I could.”

“I could ask Geoff to give put her back on Tower rotation for the night.”

The face Emily gives him is horrified. “I’m not having my  _ father _ set up a  _ date  _ for me,” she says, scandalized.

“Alright, alright,” Corvo says, snickering. “I won’t. Is Rinaldo fine with taking over for Daud, at least? Until we get word of Thomas, I’m not sure there’s anyone else we all of us trust to be your Royal Protector.”

Emily nods. “I asked him yesterday, he’s just going to be in the Tower anyway because of Rulfio.” 

Corvo tries to relax, and gives Emily one last quick hug. Before going into the Void, he’d made every attempt to depersonalize their relationship in public, trying to save Emily’s reputation before too many rumors could start about her parentage. Even after she’d admitted he was her father, Corvo had kept his affection to himself, trying treat her as an adult.

Now, the phantom feeling of Leviathan still crawls across his skin sometimes, and Corvo never wants Emily to feel doubtful of her place in his heart again. 

“Then I guess I should let you rest and relax,” Corvo says, squeezing her once and letting go. “Daud already went into the city, I should go find him.”

Emily smiles at him, and there’s a trace of sadness in it that Corvo wishes he could erase. “I’m just going to stay here, and spend some time with the Twins. Don’t you worry about me.” She kisses him on the cheek and disappears up the stairs toward the wing where Aurelia, Rulfio and Billie have been convalescing. 

Corvo whistles quietly, feeling rather than seeing Sabina burst out of the Void and land on his shoulder.  _ Darkness hangs about her like a shroud _ , she comments, and Corvo feels a chill at the words. 

“I want to keep an eye on the Tower tonight,” he says quietly. “Daud and I will be out in the city until morning, but Emily is staying here.”

_ All the eyes of the world are here, and I can watch through them all _ , Sabina agrees, fluffing up her feathers. 

Corvo taps her on the beak. “You’ll come straight to me if something happens?”

She fixes him with one Void-purple eye.  _ I will be by your side, always _ .

Figuring that’s the best agreement he’ll get out of her, Corvo nods and strokes a finger down the feathers of her back. “Thank you, my dear. Be safe.”

Sabina cackles a laugh and leaps off his shoulder, disappearing in a burst of ash. 

Corvo would never regret letting Jessamine go to her rest, but sometimes he misses her relative straightforwardness.

He makes his way into the city, where the revelry has already begun; the food from Serkonos has already hit the streets, and pubs, restaurants, and shops have flung open their doors. The city seems alive in ways that it hasn’t in the last year, graffiti washed away, planks torn off doors and windows. The garbage has been cleared away from main roads, and the street lamps are powered once again.

Corvo wanders idly, buying a honey tart from a street vendor, and ducking under some low hanging lights. Tyvian candles go off on one of the side streets, lighting up the darkening sky, and Corvo jerks in surprise when a hand reaches out of an alleyway and pulls him into an alcove.

His Mark flares, but Daud’s familiar chuckle reaches him before he can Blink away or summon fire. “Didn’t you know it’s not kind to sneak up on the Crow King?” Corvo asks, shoving at Daud.

Daud just laughs at him, catching his hands and pulling him close. “How’s Emily?”

“She’s staying in the Tower tonight,” Corvo reports. “I have Sabina keeping an eye on her, but she didn’t seem inclined to sneak out.”

“Probably for the best,” Daud says. “I wouldn’t want her out here without back up, even with the Mark.”

“I agree,” Corvo murmurs. He steals a kiss, leaning into Daud’s solid form, shielded from the growing crowds on the main strip of street. 

Daud spins them so Corvo is the one leaning against the wall, and his kisses deepen as Daud chases Corvo’s tongue with his own. Corvo is more than willing to relax under the onslaught, wrapping his arms around Daud’s neck and giving back as good as he’s getting.

They kiss for long minutes, until Corvo moves restlessly against Daud, aroused and faintly embarrassed at how easily Daud can wind him up. Daud’s hand suddenly slides between his legs, cupping his half-hard cock and pressing there, warm and steady.

“Still good?” Daud murmurs against his mouth when Corvo stills. 

“Here?” Corvo asks, leaning his shoulders back against the wall. 

Daud shrugs. “My jacket is long enough that it hides what we’re doing, and no one is going to pay us any attention. It’s Fugue Feast.”

Corvo chews on his lower lip. “If anyone comes over here, we’re leaving,” he says and Daud laughs, kissing him again. 

“Is that a yes?” he drawls, and Corvo groans an agreement into the skin of his neck. As soon as the word comes out of Corvo’s mouth, Daud crowds them into the wall, taking most of Corvo’s weight. They kiss for long minutes, Daud’s hand just pressing against him. Warmth and pressure rubs against Corvo’s rapidly hardening arousal, and he makes a sound that is definitely not a whine against Daud’s mouth.

Daud laughs softly, pulling away from Corvo’s mouth to press kisses to the side of his neck, leaving scraping bites there.

Corvo rocked his hips against Daud’s hand, fully hard now. “Going to let me?” Daud asks, fingers at his belt. Corvo nods, hips still hitching up into his touches, and Daud tugs his trousers off his hips, just enough to bare him to Daud’s gaze.

“Daud,” Corvo murmurs, and Daud takes some measure of pity on him, wrapping his hand around Corvo’s cock.

“We never have enough time,” Daud says, feathering his thumb across the tip of Corvo’s cock, spreading moisture down the length. “Seems like all our moments are stolen.”

Corvo’s hips twitch. “We’ll have more of them now,” he promises breathlessly. “As many as you want.”

Daud smiles, and it’s a strangely sweet, uncomplicated expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

He begins to stroke Corvo’s cock, slow and steady, dragging fluid from the head, keeping it almost frictionless. Corvo writhes against his hold, one hand clawing at the brick wall, the other clutching at Daud’s jacket. 

Since getting back from the Void, they’ve been bed bound and held in the infirmary wing of the Tower, unable to even sleep in the same bed without Sokolov shooing them away from each other. It wasn’t malicious, Sokolov wants them to sleep and the beds in the infirmary are narrow, too short for Corvo as it is.

Corvo’s skin is hungry, and Daud’s slow strokes across his cock are only whetting his appetite. 

“Daud, c’mon,” he murmurs, arching a little.

Daud’s smile isn’t reassuring. “In due time,” he says, and Corvo knows with a sudden bolt of arousal that Daud’s not going to let him come. “I want to make this one count. I want to hear you muffle a scream, I want all those people out there to know you’re begging for it.”

Corvo shudders. “Daud,  _ please _ .”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Daud speeds up his strokes, and Corvo can feel the rising tide of pleasure like a punch to the gut. There’s a hard curl of nearly painful pleasure, and then Daud’s hand moves away; he stops.

Corvo slumps in his grip, shaking. He’d known it was coming, but that doesn’t make the pulse pounding feeling of denied pleasure any easier to handle. “ _ Daud _ ,” he groans.

Daud’s grin widens. “You seemed like you enjoyed yourself, that time in the Hound Pits,” he says.

Shivering, Corvo thinks back to their frenzied touching during one of his briefly stolen moments away from Delilah. The pleasure Daud had wrung out of him had left him weak-kneed and lethargic for hours, and Corvo had kept the memory with him during the long nights that followed.

The idea that Daud wants to do it again - that Daud has  _ thought _ about doing it again makes Corvo go limp against him. “Yeah, yes. Alright,” Corvo murmurs, catching Daud’s mouth in a kiss. 

Daud’s hand curls around him again, stroking him with quick, rough movements. Orgasm rises up again, too quick to stop but Daud knows him too well, pulling back at the last second. Corvo groans, loud - too loud, they’re still in public! - and Daud kisses him through it.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Corvo swears quietly, trying to get his breathing under control. “I barely remember the days you told me you might never want this.”

Daud’s flickering smile appears again, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Corvo’s lips. “I didn’t, thinking you’d want more. I know you’re not going to push me, or try to guilt me. This is all for you, that’s what does it.”

Corvo relaxes back against the wall, the pleasure no longer so immediate. “As long as you’re happy,  _ amante _ .” He chances the oft-unused endearment, and Daud kisses him in response. 

“You know,” Daud rumbles, between kisses, “I think I might be.”

His hand presses up against Corvo’s aching erection again, stroking gently. Corvo moves restlessly, trying to arch but Daud pins his hips with his own. It presses them very closely together, and Corvo can feel the faint bulge of Daud’s own erection. It’s the first time since the last time they’d been against the wall that Daud has let himself press against Corvo.

He stops before Corvo can come again, and the sound Corvo makes is animal, low, rough and loud. He wants to come, wants the pulsing pleasure to come to a head, but he also never wants it to stop. Daud’s hand is warm, and slick, and Corvo keeps twitching his hips forward and back, trying to find some stimulation.

Daud kisses him through the pounding urge, until Corvo relaxes again. As soon as Corvo pushes closer, Daud grins at him, a quick flash in the darkness, and he spins them. Corvo goes willingly, catching himself on the wall with his hands, and for a heart-stopping second, he wonders if Daud has decided to bend the rules.

He’s on the edge of calling it off, when Daud presses himself against Corvo’s back. “Daud?” he asks, trying to convey his confusion.

“Still good,” Daud says immediately. “Stop worrying.”

Corvo wants to reply to that, but as soon as he inhales to ask Daud what’s going on in his head, Daud’s hand is back on his cock, stroking hard and fast and just shy of perfect. His exhale comes out as a sob, half pleading moan, half choked out curse. Daud laughs against his ear, pressing a kiss there. “I will never do anything with you - or to you,” Daud says with a twist of amusement, “that I do not want.”

There’s a part of him that thinks handjobs in public while Corvo grinds mindlessly back against him is a far cry from the tentative negotiations in their sunlit Serkonan bedroom.

Daud’s thumb rubs just under the head of his cock and Corvo’s thoughts drain away like water. “Daud,” he warns, he’s so  _ close _ , and Daud isn’t stopping this time. His strokes get tighter, faster, and Corvo doesn’t just fall off the edge, he’s thrown off.

He comes with a shout that’s more like a howl, jerking and twisting in Daud’s grip. Daud strokes him through it, winding the orgasm higher and tighter until there’s nothing left, and he falls limp back into Daud’s solid presence. 

Corvo isn’t sure his knees will hold him up much longer, and thankfully Daud seems to realize that, turning them again so he’s the one against the wall, Corvo draped over his chest.

They kiss a little in the aftermath, but Corvo mostly leans there just breathing, listening to Daud’s steady heartbeat under his ear. “Still good?” Daud asks, lips touching his ear.

“Still good,” Corvo replies, and kisses him again.

*

The morning after Fugue Feast is done, and the new year trembles into being with a weak, watery sunrise, Sabina bursts into Corvo’s room with a flare of Void-light and ash. Daud is the one to wake Corvo, shaking his shoulder gently. “Your bird won’t stop squawking at me,” he mumbles. 

Corvo opens one eye and stares balefully at Sabina. “What.”

_ New year, new troubles _ , Sabina trills at him and Corvo may actually throw something at her if she woke them up just to sass him.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he asks, sitting up and shoving his messy hair away from his face. She hops down off the back of his desk chair to land on his upraised knee.

_ There is someone here who knows as many secrets as I _ , she finally says, head cocked. 

Corvo blinks at her. “A Marked someone?” he demands, and Daud stiffens next to him.

Sabina ruffles her feathers.  _ The Empress sent him away with his box that kills _ .

“Box that kill- Clemente? Emily sent Clemente away?” Corvo starts to stand up, upsetting her from her perch. “Why?” 

_ She seeks a lost limb.  _

Looking for Thomas, he mentally translates and turns to look at Daud who has paused halfway out of the bed. “She says Emily sent Clemente away, to find information on Thomas.” 

In answer, Daud’s left hand clenches, his Mark flickering gold-teal. “He’s either dead, or being kept in a place where that music is played all the time,” he murmurs. “I can’t reach him.”

“Can you reach the others in Karnaca?” Corvo wonders, scooping up Sabina and tossing her into the air so he can get off the bed. 

Daud nods, following him. “Yes. It’s harder, takes more effort but the bonds were already there, it was easy to reinstate them. The bond for Thomas, it’s - gone. Like it never existed.” Daud’s voice twists at the end of the sentence, and Corvo reaches out for him. He doesn’t have the power to connect to others, he can’t imagine what Daud is going through.

_ He’s never loved before this; he thinks it feels like drowning _ , Sabina points out helpfully.

Corvo turns to stare her down. “ _ Really _ ?” he snaps.

Sabina does her impression of a shrug.  _ Drowning is more peaceful than he expected _ .

Corvo exhales slowly through his nose. Getting used to Sabina’s particular brand of sarcasm is taking longer than he expected. “Thank you for the information,” he says tightly. “Do you have anything  _ useful _ ?”

She barks out a laugh, the cackle echoing.  _ The thorn is headed this way, she shouldn’t be out of bed. _

“The thor- ah.” Corvo Blinks over to the wardrobe and begins dressing, tossing Daud his clothing. Daud looks at him for a second before obviously deciding not to ask, and following his lead. 

As soon as they’re as put together as an early morning wake up will get them, there’s a knock on the door. Corvo Blinks over to it, pulling it open, already waving Billie inside. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Neither should you, Crow.”

Corvo watches Daud’s face go through a series of complicated emotions before he blows Daud a kiss from behind Billie’s back, and slips from the room to let them speak. It’s a long time coming for them, and forgiveness never comes easy.

He jostles Sabina and Blinks up into the rafters to find Emily. He hopes she did the right thing and that Thomas will be easily found and rescued. 

They’ve all lost enough, after all.


	3. 3. EMILY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s a shadow of his former charm; Rulfio is still gaunt and hollow eyed, too pale and distressed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, Lex, Estora, Taywen, Aeniala, tridraconeus, luci, and all the folks who comment, support me and send me messages on tumblr. I love you all, and as we get closer and closer to the ending, I'm going to miss y'all so much <3
> 
> As ever, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs.
> 
> :)

“I can handle it,” Rulfio insists, giving Emily a grin. It’s a shadow of his former charm; Rulfio is still gaunt and hollow eyed, too pale and distressed. “I spent six months in Bottle Street, I owe it to the kids who are still there.”

Emily shakes her head. “I’m not doubting your devotion, Rulf. I just want you to be safe. We’ve only just gotten you back.”

Rulfio’s singular eye darkens with some unknowable emotion. “If you’re not doubting my devotion to them, then let me do this for  _ me _ .” Emily blinks at him, and he looks away, across the room where Rinaldo is hovering in the doorway. “Let me help, please. I need - I can’t stay in this bed.”

She knows from Sokolov’s reports that Rulfio wakes himself screaming every night. Emily can’t even imagine what he went through when the magic finally died and Corvo’s protection failed him. Sokolov’s reports don’t go into detail but the physical ailments Rulfio walked away with are vast, and his recovery will take time.

“You’re supposed to,” Emily says, looking at the solutions and drips that Rulfio is connected to. “You’re still malnourished, and -”

“And I spent the last month and a half as a weeper,” Rulfio says sharply.  “I know better than every single natural philosopher what that feels like. I have the Bond back, I’m stronger than I was. Emily, this isn’t a negotiation, I am  _ going _ to help them.”

There’s more determination in his face than there is pain and Emily can see how much he needs to feel useful and strong again. She understands the need, after everything. “Fine,” she capitulates. “On one condition.”

Rulfio’s tense form relaxes back into the pillows. “What?” he asks, openly suspicious.

“I’m going with you.”

The words fall like stones, and Rulfio blinks, his good eye wide. “Can you even do that?” he asks, and for the moment, he sounds like the boy she grew up with.

Emily smiles at him, a little smug. “I’m the Empress.”

Rulfio scowls at her. “I’m not sure that counts in this instance,” he grumbles. “But obviously I can’t stop you.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Emily says. “Rinaldo will come with us, and we have magic again, so it’s not like we’re helpless.” She stands, brushes wrinkles from her clothing and hands Rulfio the cane he’s been using to get around easier.

“I somehow doubt that any of those arguments will work on Daud,” Rulfio mutters, accepting the cane and rising to his feet. “But you go ahead and try it.”

Together, they left the infirmary, Rulfio leaning on the cane or on her shoulder. The elevator was still slow, giving Rinaldo time to meet them at the doors. He lifted an eyebrow but fell into step with them without comment.

They make it all the way down to the entrance hall before Corvo steps out of the shadows, ash still swirling around his shins. “And where do you three think you’re going?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound angry, to Emily’s relief.

“We’re going to Bottle Street,” Rulfio says. “Sokolov and Piero need help.”

Corvo nods. “You’ll be careful?”

Emily feels a surge of almost hysterical relief. She had expected him to say no, to demand she stay in the Tower, to – talk about safety and her life. Corvo steps forward, ruffling Rulfio’s shaggy hair, and places his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Here,” he says, and hands her his blade. “I’d feel better if you had this.”

“You’re not going to make Daud come with me?” she asks, a thread of suspicion winding around her spine.

“No, neither Daud nor I are entirely recovered, and besides, you have Rinaldo and Rulfio with you.” Corvo bent down to kiss her forehead. “I trust you to take care of yourself, Em.”

Emily wants to hug him – like she did when they first came back, but they’re almost in a public place. She can’t be seen like that, even if he is her father.

“I’ll be back before dinner.”

Corvo steps back, and Emily can see Sabina – how strange that still is – wing down to land on his shoulder. She hurries out with the twins, still afraid Corvo will change his mind, and tell her she can’t go.

It’s not until they get into the carriage that her spine unlocks, and she relaxes into the seat. Rulfio leans against Rinaldo’s side, rolling his cane between his palms. “It’s not pretty,” he warns them softly. “Bottle Street, I mean. It’s – It’s not pretty.”

“How are they distributing with the Cure?” Emily asks.

“For the moment, they’re using Slackjaw’s old distillery bootleg to synthesize more of their cure, and feeding it to the weepers,” Rulfio says. “But it’s not a great way to do it, because there are still sick people in the streets.”

Emily chews on her lip. “I know the Bottle Street Boys were rounding them up, but that got a lot of them sick too.”

“We’re going to have to start spreading the plague cure out somehow,” Rinaldo says. “Maybe by going into the quarantine zones and corralling them up that way.”

Rulfio fidgets. “Weepers don’t want to hurt you,” he finally murmurs. “We – They just want help. They know they’re sick, and that they’re starving and dying. We can’t talk, can’t – communicate, everything burns.”

Emily sucks in a sharp breath. Rulfio has steadfastly avoided talking about his time as weeper. “Rulf…”

His shoulders hunch up, and he looks out the window instead of at his brother or at her. “I could see healthy people just outside the cage, I knew that – that they had something I didn’t, and I  _ needed it _ , Em. I had to have it, even if it – it didn’t help.” He wraps his arms around himself, fingers clenching in his jacket. “And the  _ coughing _ , it was endless. Nothing stopped the blood.”

Rinaldo hisses, pulling Rulfio in close. From this close, Emily can see the way his fingers tremble. “We don’t have to go back,” Rinaldo says, even though they’re close to their destination.

“I owe those people my life, Rin,” Rulfio says. “Piero gave me the first completed cure because he remembered me from Karnaca. There are  _ children _ in there that need my help.”

Emily reaches across the carriage to take his hand. “We’ll be there this time,” she promises. “You’re not alone.”

Rulfio spares her a wan smile. “I appreciate that, thank you.”

The carriage halts at the entrance to John Clavering Boulevard and Rinaldo gets out first, holding out a hand for Emily. Together, the three of them walk into the distillery courtyard. The first thing Emily notices is the smell – that last time she’d come here, it had nearly overpowered her with blood and rot.

Now, it smells faintly of alchemical reagents, and the lemony scent of some sort of cleaning product.

“Ah, young Rulfio,” Sokolov booms. “I hadn’t expected you to return.”

Rulfio shrugs, still looking twitchy. “I had to. The kids, you know.”

Sokolov nods. “Of course, of course. We’re finishing the cure course for them at the moment. I’m sure they’d like to see you again.”

Rulfio leads them over the small bricked in cage area where Emily had once visited him.

The children are no longer wandering the small enclosure, with dead eyes and bloody mouths. The floor is covered from wall to wall in small cots now, with tiny bodies curled up under thin blankets.

Rulfio pushes open the door to the cage and slips in, sitting on the edge of the one of the beds. “Hey Charlie,” he murmurs, brushing dirty red hair away from a pale face. “How’re you feeling?”

The kid – Charlie – rolls into Rulfio, burrowing her head into the pillow. “Tired,” she mumbles. “Chest still hurts.”

“Yeah,” Rulfio says, stroking her hair. “I know the feeling. My friends and I are going to get more doses, alright? Can you wake the others for me?”

She sits up, and Emily can see the damage her time as a weeper as done to her body, once the blanket is gone. Charlie is so thin that her veins are visible where her skin stretches across her body. Her eyes have broken blood vessels in them, and her face is awash in red lines, where the coughing broke veins in her cheeks.

She goes around the cots, murmuring to the other kids, helping them sit up. Rulfio takes Rinaldo’s hand, and Emily’s arm and pulls them back toward the distillery building. “Charlie is fifteen,” he says softly.

As soon as they walk into the cool darkness of the Distillery, the sounds of weepers assaults Emily’s ears. The floor of the old factory has been blocked off, and adult weepers still roam the area.

Piero hands Rinaldo a crate of red elixir. “Here, is there anything else they need?” he asks, turning to look at Rulfio.

“Food, probably,” Rulfio says. “If they’re getting better like I am, they need to start solid foods soon.”

Piero looks thoughtful. “We have some breads and cheese. Bloodox broth too, I think. I’ll gather up some supplies and bring it over. Get them to take their dose first.”

Rulfio nods, which is how Emily finds herself holding vials of red elixir up to small faces, helping them sip at the medicine, her gloved fingers cradling their heads. Some of them make exaggerated sounds of disgust with every sip of the cure, but they drink when Emily hushes them.

“I bet you don’t have to take your medicine, Empress,” one of them says, scowling at the vial on the cot next to him.

“I do too,” Emily says back. “I had to take this just like you do.”

The little boy sighs, his chest catching alarmingly but he doesn’t cough. “But it’s gross,” he whines.

“My mother – ” Emily cuts herself off. She doesn’t talk about Jessamine, it’s still too fresh, especially now that Corvo no longer has her either. “My mother always said that if medicine tasted good, it wouldn’t work so well.”

“That’s dumb,” the little boy grumbles.

Emily twists off the cap to the vial. “What would you rather it tasted like?” she asks.

“Grapes,” one of the children says.

“No, apples!”

“Serk’nan ban’na!”

Rulfio grins at her. “Apricot tarts.”

“Just drink the medicine,” Emily sighs.

It takes some doing, but the vials are emptied and the children are given small hunks of bread and soft cheese, to go with cups of bloodox broth. Some eat more than others, and Emily keeps a sharp eye on the smallest bodies, to make sure they don’t drop their food or choke on their bites.

Between the twins, Emily and the girl Charlie, they got the other children back into their cots for more rest. “Empress,” Charlie says, just before Emily is about to suggest they leave for the day, to let the kids sleep. “Could you – Could you maybe find my father?”

“I can try,” Emily says, cautious.

The Plague, plus the five years of Delilah’s reign have taken a toll on the population of Dunwall. The city was once thriving, and though Emily couldn’t remember the exact number of the population, it was well into the hundred-thousands. The disasters had decimated the people, and Emily can’t promise any child that their family even still lives.

“His name is Gerome,” Charlie says. “Gerome Burton? He – He promised he’d find me, but maybe he doesn’t know I’m here?”

Emily’s eyes widen. “Ger- I  _ know _ him.”

Charlie gasps, clinging to Emily’s hand. “Can you find him? Bring him here?”

“I can try,” Emily promises. She turns to Rinaldo. “I need to get to Draper’s Ward.”

“I can get you there.” He turns to Rulfio who smiles, waving them on. “We’ll be back soon.”

Emily and Rinaldo ran for the carriage, transversing once they were out of eyesight. Emily has done nothing but sit in her Tower drafting treaties, and fending off insinuations about her parentage, it feels  _ good _ to finally do something worthwhile.

Gerome had been a good friend to her, back at the Hound Pits Pub. If she can return to him his daughter, then maybe  _ something _ can finally start going right again.

Draper’s Ward is still mid-clean up, with scaffolding and machinery covering most of the shops. Rinaldo and Emily split up, searching the area around the old Orphanage, where Burton had taken over patronage.

“Don’t go far,” Rinaldo warns her.

“I won’t,” Emily says. “Don’t worry.”

Rinaldo disappears into one of the shops, and Emily goes across the square toward the orphanage itself when someone comes out of the darkness. She yelps, jerking back a step.

“Hello, Emily.”

She freezes.

Farley Havelock stands, half in shadow, looming over her. “F-Farley,” she murmurs.

“You shouldn’t out here alone, Empress,” he says, his voice rife with disapproval. “I thought you were better than that.”

Emily takes a step away from him. “I’m not alone. I’m with Rinaldo. We’re – looking for someone.”

Havelock looks around. “He seems to have abandoned you. Your choice in protectors continues to inspire, Emily.”

“I’m armed, and Rinaldo is a street away. I’m hardly alone, and I hardly need protection,” she says, striving for the tone that Esma Boyle uses at court.

Havelock’s expression speaks volumes but instead of commenting on her failing to sound strident, he says, “I miss our chats. I suppose Corvo and Daud spend their evenings with you now, as I once did.”

Emily hesitates. They don’t, but they’ve been injured, and spend most of their days still resting. “It’s not – It’s not like that,” she murmurs. “They’re recovering.”

“Of course they are,” Havelock says. “Have you received my letters?”

Remembering the letter makes her skin tight and her fingers cold. “I only got one letter, Farley.”

“I’ve sent several,” Havelock says, anger beginning to filter into his voice. “You may wish to check to be certain you’re receiving all your letters, Emily.” He pauses, and she hangs in the silence. “You did not return the letter.”

Emily swallows hard. “I’ve been very busy, Farley. I – I have to go.” She backs away from him, anxiety tightening her spine like a winch.

“I hope that you treat your father better than you treated me,” Havelock’s voice says from the darkness of the alley. “Lest you find yourself with few friends. I await your response.” It doesn’t sound like writing him back is optional, after all.

She flees back into the street, dashing up the steps to the orphanage. As soon as she pulls the door open, she finds Gerome in the front hall, blinking comically at her. “… Empress?” he asks. “Are y’alright? You’re shakin’.”

Emily swallows hard. Gerome doesn’t want to hear about Havelock, and she has more important things to talk about. “I need you to come with me,” she says. “Please.”

Gerome looks down at her. “Sure? I mean, ‘course, but where we goin’?”

“Bottle Street,” Emily says.

He falters only the slightest bit, hand going to the necklace hidden under his shirt, but eventually he nods. Together they step out into the street, and Rinaldo jogs over to her. “Oh good, you found him.”

Emily’s jaw clenches, looking over at the alley, but Havelock is gone.

Neither Rinaldo nor Emily tell Gerome why they’re going back to Bottle Street. “It’s the kids, ain’t it?” he finally guesses. “They’re gonna need a place to live.”

Honestly, Emily hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she nods. “Eventually, they will. They’re improving, slowly, and once they’re back on real food again, we should probably move them.”

Like she had been when they first arrived, Gerome seems surprised at the general state of cleanliness. Emily leads him down through the courtyard, promising everything would become clear in only a few moments.

“ _ Dad! _ ” Charlie comes flying out of the cage, stumbling once on the uneven cobblestones, and before Emily can steady her, Gerome is there.

His arms wrap around Charlie, rocking her side to side, shoulders hitching. “Babygirl,” he murmured. “ _ Charlie _ , you’re alive.”

Emily watches with a smile, feeling some of the strain from meeting Havelock drain out of her.

Rulfio hobbles out of the cage, leaning heavily on his cane. He looks tired, but happy, more at peace than he had in the days beforehand. “Wish I’d known your dad was Burton, kiddo,” he says, going to Rinaldo’s side.

Charlie pulls back to look at Gerome’s face. “You got old,” she teases, even as tears run down her cheeks.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he says dryly, tugging her back into another embrace. “Just what your old man wants to hear.”

Emily leaves them to it, ushering Rulfio back up to the carriage. It feels good to have reunited Gerome with his daughter, it feels like she’s finally starting to make a difference as Empress. That  _ healing _ can finally be achieved, despite all they’ve been through as a city.

It’s a good feeling – one Emily hasn’t felt in far too long.

*

Emily closes herself in her rooms once they arrive back in the Tower, clutching the letters she’d taken from the mailroom. She sorted through them quickly but didn’t find any new ones from Havelock, and she relaxes.

The first letter – or at least, the only one that made it through to her – sits in her bottom drawer, and Emily pulls it out, reading it over again.

_ Admiral Havelock _ , she pens in her very best handwriting,  _ I appreciate your concern, as I ever have. However, after the unfortunate incident with Mortimer Ramsey, I fear I can no longer trust your judgement of character. That you remain with his family is testament to your complicit knowledge of Ramsey’s behavior. _

_ Thank you for all the help you gave me. You were invaluable, and your knowledge only served to aid me when I most needed it. However –  _ Here she pauses, unsure what to say to show him how much this dialogue eats at her.

_ However, I feared for my life, and my virtue when you appointed Ramsey in Thomas’ stead, and when I tried to explain, you put me off. I no longer wish to continue our correspondence. Please do not write me again. _

She doesn’t sign it, and shoves the note into a thick envelope, scrawling out the Ramsey estate address.

It’s possible that Havelock won’t give up; Emily swallows bitter bile down. She should burn his letter, get rid of everything that reminds her of Havelock; in the Tower she’s safe, he can’t reach her there.

Emily adds the envelope to the Ramsey estate to the morning post, transversing down and up again, to keep from being seen.

She doesn’t burn the letter.


	4. 4. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corvo carves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, Estora, Taywen, Lex, Sasha, Sera, and everyone who has been such a support. Thank you <3
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs :)

Corvo carves.

It takes him too long to find the rhythm, the music of his magic slow to answer his call. He boils the whale bones, stripping them of Delilah’s hateful touch, letting the clear Tyvian liquor do its job. His rooms in the Tower are filled with construction workers, rebuilding the sagging wall that - without Delilah’s influence - had crumbled into mold and dirt where the moss and flowers had once hung.

Banished from the small cooking stove he’d installed in the privacy of his rooms, Corvo takes over the last oven in the kitchens, ignoring the stares of the newly hired servants.

Leaving the bones to stew in the mix of herbs and alcohol, Corvo runs his knife over a block of wood, trying to summon up the runes he’d once known instinctively. The magic is shaky in his hands, and Corvo scowls down at the block of mangled wood.

“Do you struggle?” 

Corvo looks up and meets the Outsider’s black-ink eyes from where he stands by the stove. “I seem to have forgotten,” Corvo responds, somewhat dry. “It’s been some time since I was able to do this.”

The Outsider reaches over and picks up the wood, tugging it from Corvo’s unresisting fingers. “Your technique is off.”

“ _ Thanks _ .” Corvo takes back his feeble attempt at memories, and slides it into his pocket. “What brings you here? How are you feeling?”

The Outsider shrugs one thin shoulder. “I am improving. The Void is unruly, but there is no sign of Leviathan, my dear Corvo.”

“I wasn’t worried about Leviathan,” Corvo sighs. “I was worried about  _ you _ .”

There’s a short pause, and the Outsider dissolves into ash, only to reappear sitting next to Corvo on the bench. “I  _ am _ Leviathan, as you well know.”

Corvo gives him a flat, side-long look. “You’re no more Leviathan than I am.” 

That makes the Outsider almost smile; a slight upwards tugging off his mouth as he brushes cool fingers above Corvo’s left eye. “Leviathan is a part of you as well, my dear.”

Rueful, Corvo nods. “I suppose it is. After all that time I spent in the Void, I can’t truly be surprised I took a part of it away when I left.”

“You took more than a part,” the Outsider responds, something reproachful in his soft tone. 

When Corvo turns to face him on the bench, they’re no longer in the basement kitchens; instead, they’re seated on rough slate stone, surrounded by blue. Whalesong floats on the breeze, and Corvo blinks in surprise. “I didn’t - think you could do this when I was awake.”

“For any of my other Marked, I could not.”

Corvo hears what the Outsider doesn’t say; he’s too close to the Void now, half in, half out, in a way he’d managed to avoid the first time he’d opened a portal and stepped through it. “If I asked you a question,” he says, soft and slow, “would you answer it honestly?”

The Outsider chuckles. “Have I ever answered a question honestly?” 

Rolling his eyes, Corvo turns his attention back to the placid Void. After several seconds that drag like years, he murmurs, “how close did I come to taking your place?”

Next to him, the Outsider stiffens by degrees, which is an answer in and of itself. The sound of displaced air is very loud in Corvo’s ear, when the Outsider disappears. He turns in his seat to track the Outsider’s location, finding him crouched on a rock, looking out over the sea of nothing below the Void.

“Too close.” 

Corvo rubs his Void-touched eye. “Yeah,” he sighs. “That’s what I thought.”

The Outsider’s back is still to him, stiff along the shoulders and spine. “You will return here, once you have passed from the world.” 

Slowly, Corvo approaches him, leaning his hip against the rock and watching a whale slide between the waves of the sea below. “And then?” he asks.

The music on the wind sounds heartbroken, whalesong and sorrow, as it cuts through Corvo’s thin clothing. “You will have to make a choice, my dear Corvo,” the Outsider admits. “My others, the Marked, they pass without one, but you - you are too close to me, to Leviathan. You will have a choice.”

“A choice?” Corvo asks, skeptical. Nothing about the last six years has been his choice, save his accepting the Mark.

“Free will is still important to me,” the Outsider says, somehow managing to sound offended.

Corvo smiles, looking down into the clear blue of the Void. “I know, old friend.” The silence between them is companionable, and he breaks it to ask, gently, “what  _ is _ the choice, then?”

“Whether to go… or to stay.” 

The words fall like stones, and Corvo freezes in place, trembling slightly against the rock he leans against. It’s an impossible choice - whatever lies beyond the Void, the place only his crows can go, the place he can sense but not see, that’s where Jessamine went. That’s where Emily will go, and Daud, all the people he’s grown to love and care for.

If he chooses to follow them, to cross over into the land of the dead, he leaves the Outsider behind. Yet, if he makes the opposite choice, if he stays; he’ll never see his family again.

“That is no choice at all,” he murmurs, daring to press his shoulder to the Outsider’s.

“And it is the one you must one day make.”

Corvo sighs, turning his head to look at the Outsider. “What would you do?”

“You already know what I did.” The Outsider holds up his left hand, his skin pale and unblemished. “I could have given into Leviathan when I arrived. I chose not to.”

Corvo can see how that would unfold easily. “If you had given in,” he wonders, flexing his own Marked hand. “Our lives might have been quite different.”

“They would have found another boy,” the Outsider murmurs. “Or the Void would have created its own avatar. As you noticed, the Void hardly needs one.”

Shaking his head, Corvo disagrees. “It needed you. The magic outside of here was dying, did die according to Emily.”

The Outsider’s lip curls. “ _ That _ was Delilah’s doing.”

“Of course it was.” Corvo pulls away. “I should get back.”

Without looking at him the Outsider waves a grandiose hand and a portal, limned in greyish-blue light spins into being next to their position. Corvo squeezes the Outsider’s shoulder and steps away, wondering if his bones are done boiling. 

“Corvo?”

He pauses, turning back to look at the Outsider. 

“What would  _ your  _ choice be?”

Corvo smiles. “Outsider, have I ever answered a question honestly?” 

He steps through the portal, letting the magic spin him back into the kitchen. Corvo opens his eyes to find himself back on the bench, mangled wooden test block at his feet. He tosses it into the bin, standing and checking on the bones.

They're ready, mostly, the taint of red-tinted magic is gone and Corvo pulls out a rib piece, curved perfectly.

One by one he pulls out the pieces and dries them on torn cloth, leaving them in a small pile. Soon he had a sizeable collection and Corvo gathers them up, glancing around to take stock of his surroundings. 

The servants have given his corner of the kitchen a wide berth, and the cooks seem to have fled in response to his take over. Safely alone, Corvo Blinks away, stepping through the opened window, and outside.

It's the work of moments to Blink up to his rooms, stepping inside from the window.

The workers are gone, and his wall is more or less fixed, down to studs and drywall, but better than the crumbling mud it had begun to turn into with the absence of magic to keep the flowers alive.

Corvo clears away some of the mess left behind, settling himself in the middle of the floor. He sits on a blanket, butterfly-style, and turns up his whale oil lantern until it casts great swathes of shadows across the walls.

He pulls out his carving tools, letting his fingers choose one without looking. Holding the tool firmly, Corvo reaches for his magic.

Teal Void-light spills over his hands, and the power answers. 

Runes spin out across bone almost faster than Corvo can carve it, his knife digging in the symbols for health, vitality, and strength, looping them together with speed and vigor.

Each rune burns into the bone like it's meant to be there, glowing faintly with an oil slick of power and magic even after Corvo finishes the symbol. He had been a skilled bone charm carver before, the best in Karnaca and most certainly in Dunwall. He's never felt magic like this, so fast and free under his hands and skin.

The tool tumbles from his fingers when there's no more space on the bone for runes. He blinks down at the piece in his hand, and reaches for the pieces of silver and iron.

The silver jumps to his fingers first, and Corvo calls blue flame to his palms, molding the silver into thin pieces that loop and whorl across the bone charm.

The iron came next, forming a cage for the charm to fit in, and Corvo wrapped the fire around the bone to seal it all together. 

The magic humming around him dies with a murmur, and he focuses back on the dim room. Daud is laying on the bed a few feet away, asleep on Corvo's side of the mattress, face turned toward him.

It's dark out, and Corvo isn't wholly certain how long he'd been at it, but it's long enough for the tray of food on the bedside table to have gone cold. 

When Corvo begins eating the cold fare left behind, Daud opens his eyes. “You were at it for a while,” he murmurs, half-asleep.

“I had a lot of pent up magic,” Corvo agrees. “I'm going to run up to the infirmary with this.”

Daud squints at the bone charm. “Who is it for?”

“Rulfio,” Corvo admits. “If the magic hadn't failed, he wouldn't have become a weeper, and hopefully this can help reverse some of the effects.”

Expression soft, Daud reaches out and tugs at Corvo's hand. “C’mere.”

Leaning down, Corvo gives Daud the kiss he's angling for. “I won't be gone long,” he promises.

“Fine,” Daud mumbles, already most of the way asleep again. Corvo brushes the backs of his fingers across Daud's cheek, and Blinks away, heading for the Infirmary.

Billie hasn't been in the room since she went to talk to Daud, but Aurelia is a familiar sleeping lump under the covers farthest from the door. Rulfio though, is standing by the large window, looking up at the cloudy sky.

“Rulf?” Corvo calls.

Rulfio doesn't so much as twitch. “Hey Crow,” he says, not looking at him.

“Couldn't sleep?” 

Rulfio shakes his head. “Nightmares. You know how it is.”

Corvo Blinks to his side, leaning against the wall. “Yes,” he says honestly. “I do.”

The way Rulfio’s mouth twists tells him that the boy has forgotten Corvo's storied past in Coldridge. 

“Sorry,” Rulfio murmurs. “Are you - alright? Why are you in the infirmary in the middle of the night?”

“I brought you a gift,” Corvo says with a smile. “It doesn't keep away dreams but hopefully it will help anyway.” He holds out the bone charm.

Rulfio takes it, fingers curling around the odd edges. “Oh,” he breathes, and his shoulders loosen, dropping tension Corvo didn't even notice he was carrying. “I can - I'm  _ hungry _ .”

Corvo smiles, relief finally trickling past the worry. “Why don't we sneak down to the kitchen and get something? I missed dinner.”

Rulfio nods eagerly, and for a moment, he looks like the young man that had argued over whose turn it was to wash up after dinner, back when they were in Karnaca.

He grins at Corvo, dimples digging divots in his cheeks. “Race you!” he whispers loudly, and Blinks.

*

When Daud finds him again, he's dressed in a neatly pressed Lord Protector coat, his trousers free of wrinkles and dirt. “Well now, look at you,” Corvo teases. “You clean up well.”

Daud scowls. “Apparently Esma Boyle knew just the most  _ perfect tailor _ , and I  _ had to be seen  _ by him.” His imitation of Esma is atrocious and Corvo snorts loudly, failing at covering his laughter.

That only makes Daud scowl harder and Corvo rises off the floor to run his hands across the pressed lines of Daud’s uniform. “You forget I did this for almost twenty years, myself. I remember what the noble tailors are like.”

Daud tugs at the hem of his jacket. “If I’d known what I was getting myself into I might have had second thoughts,” he grumbles.

Corvo grins at him. “Lies.”

Shaking his head, Daud pulls Corvo closer, fingers hooking into his belt. “Have you slept yet?” Corvo shrugs - no, he hasn’t, but he had been trying to wait for dark so he could reset his schedule back to something more normal.

“Soon,” he promises, even as Daud starts backing him up toward the bed. “I’ll sleep when you do, this time.”

Daud snorts softly. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he says, pushing Corvo gently down onto the mattress. “You  _ look _ tired. Give me some peace of mind; get some rest.”

Corvo catches him by his jacket so when he tumbles to the bed, Daud follows him over. With a soft ‘oof’, Daud catches himself with one hand on the bed, avoiding squishing Corvo too badly. “I have to go back downstairs,” Daud says, though he doesn’t get up immediately.

“Or,” Corvo drawls, “you could stay here with me until I fall asleep.”

Daud laughs. “Oh, is that what I would be doing?”

He shifts his leg so it presses between Corvo’s and it makes Corvo’s soft laughter cut off in a gasp; he hadn’t been serious, but Daud’s expression has settled into something like intent and Corvo is powerless to put him off when he looks at Corvo that way.

“Well, now that you mention it,” Corvo murmurs, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Daud leans down so his weight is on Corvo, pressing him into the bed. “You’re going to make me late.”

Corvo pulls him into the kiss he’s angling for. “You’re the one that tossed me on the bed,” he points out. “You could go back downstairs easily.”

“Easily?” Daud repeats, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Not hardly.”

He takes Corvo’s mouth in a bruising kiss, crushing their lips together. It sends a hard curl of desire straight through him, as he arches up into Daud. It’s absurdly easy to press into each kiss and lose himself to them. Daud’s tongue traces his lower lip, dotting small kisses at the corners of his mouth, tongues tangling together. 

It’s thorough and sparks heat under Corvo’s breastbone. He wraps his arms around Daud’s waist, submitting to the sweet onslaught. 

Daud kisses down his jaw, teeth scraping just lightly enough to send shivers rolling down Corvo’s spine. He tilts his head to give Daud more room, and in answer, Daud sets his teeth to Corvo’s neck. He has to stifle his groan - it’s the middle of the day after all, anyone could be walking by and their relationship is already the subject of curious speculation.

When Daud bites gently at the side of Corvo’s neck, worrying a mark there, Corvo twitches upwards, the motion out of his control. “Oh you like that do you?” Daud teases, grinning at him. 

Corvo narrows his eyes. “You well know it,” he murmurs, tugging Daud back in for a proper kiss. “Tease.”

“I’m only giving you something to look forward to later,” Daud protests, kissing Corvo. “Should I stop?”

“Never,” Corvo says with a laugh, tugging Daud closer. “You’re the one who is busy today.”

Daud smirks, dropping a kiss onto Corvo’s chin. “Am I supposed to go back to work when you’re warm and willing in my bed?”

Corvo runs his fingers through Daud’s hair, messing it from the slicked back style it had been set into. “I think you’ll find this is my bed,” he drawls.

“Semantics,” Daud murmurs, dipping down to kiss him again.

Corvo arches up into his touch, letting the slow, languorous kissing lull him into a soft, half-aroused, half-sleepy stretch out between them.

There’s no urgency to Daud’s kisses, and Corvo inwardly marvels at how much has changed over the last year and a half. He would never have imagined that Daud could lay here with him, trading easy, unhurried kisses with him. 

With no real crises hanging over them, their relationship has only managed to grow deeper - something Corvo had been secretly worried for. If their relationship had been born of crises, would it die when there was no more upheaval? 

After Fugue Feast, his fears had dissolved, and Corvo feels like he can finally relax.

Corvo wraps his arms around Daud’s neck, pulling him close. They don’t say it often but the sweet, soft mood floating around them nearly asks for it. He opens his mouth and -

\- The door flies open.

“Daud! Father!” Emily tumbles through, her eyes wide, face bone white. “You need to come, right now!”

Daud had Blinked away as soon as the door slammed into the wall, appearing halfway across the room, his hair mussed, lips swollen. “Emily!” he barks. 

She doesn’t even react to their appearances, clearly too frantic to pay their activities much mind. “I’m sorry, you need to - please, just -  _ he’s back _ .”

Pleasure flees in the face of Emily’s very real distress, and Corvo scrambles off the bed to catch her up in his arms. “Emily, who is back?”

She scrubs at her face, wiping away the tears that tremble on her lashes. “Overseer Clemente,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. “I sent him back to Holger Square a week ago.”

“I remember,” Corvo prompts her. “He’s returned?”

Emily nods, biting her lip. “Dad, he brought Thomas.”

“Thomas?” Daud breathes.

“You - You need to come to the infirmary right now.”

Daud is gone, Blinked away before Emily even finishes his sentence. Corvo takes Emily’s hand, and can do nothing but follow after him.

*tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheheheeheHEHEHEHEHEHE


	5. 5. EMILY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“He's going to be fine, Em,” Corvo murmurs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, estora, Taywen, Lex, Sera, Aeniala - also for Jade, who yelled at me on discord, and Fanghoul who left such an amazing comment. Special thanks to taywen and Estora for looking over the chapter and helping me ~~make it worse~~ fix my grammar.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: This chapter includes some gore. Nothing huge, nothing overt, but if you are easily disturbed by body horror, then please see the end notes first to check and make sure you're alright with reading the chapter. Avoid the end notes, if you're leary of spoilers.**

Sokolov and Piero had whisked Thomas into an operating theater as soon as Clemente arrived with him, leaving Emily pacing through the halls, waiting for news.

Corvo and Daud are behind her, somewhere, sitting on one of the new couches they’d had made for the new Tower infirmary, but Emily can’t focus on them. Not when Thomas is possibly dying behind several closed doors. “Emily, come sit,” Corvo requests softly.

She does, after some hesitation. “Lie to me,” she whispers. Emily is too old for lies and she knows it; she can't afford to listen to half-truths, not in her position. She's a child wearing an adults mask, and she wants so badly to believe her father - her fathers - and hear that Thomas will be fine. 

Daud shifts, looking over at her in surprise. “Lie to you?”

“Tell me he’s going to be alright.”

Corvo winces at the question, but Emily isn’t a little girl anymore; she knows that Thomas - she knows not everyone survives what they go through. She knows Rulfio was _lucky_ and that expecting Thomas to pull through is both childish and unrealistic.

She wants to remember him as the young man who offered to keep her safe from Havelock in her bedroom, and as the smiling boy who caught her when her transversals failed and she fell from the bookshelves back in Karnaca.

The Thomas that Clemente brought back was hardly even the shade of the Thomas in her memories.

They wait, the late afternoon sun creeping across the floor to finally vanish into darkness with no word. Emily doesn’t know what she’ll do if Thomas dies.

Eventually the door to the infirmary opens but Emily pays it little mind. It’s not the door to the operating theater, and she doesn’t want to miss Sokolov or Piero when they finally emerge.

“Empress,” someone says and Emily doesn’t immediately recognize their voice.

She looks up and meets Clemente’s sad, dark eyes, and she surges to her feet. “You will tell me what happened,” she snaps, and Clemente looks away.

He dwarfs her in every way, but he looks very small in his bloody Overseer uniform, head low and shoulders hunched. Clemente takes a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he admits.

Emily feels like she’s going into shock; her limbs are flash frozen, everything stiff and trembling. “What do you _mean_ ,” she snaps, a whip crack, “you don’t _know_.”

Clemente doesn’t flinch. He does, however, close his eyes, as though in great pain. “I'm sorry I don't have a better answer for you,” he says, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. There's so much sorrow in his expression that Emily's breath catches in her throat. “Khulan - he's a good man, a good High Overseer. This shouldn't have happened.”  
  
Emily slices her hand through the air, cutting him off before he can continue extolling the virtues of a man she thought was her ally. “I don't want to hear about Khulan,” she snaps. “How can you call him a good man after - after this?!”   
  
“He would not order this!” Clemente insists.   
  
This is because of Emily. She revealed her bone charms to Khulan, she told him - hypothetically or not - that Corvo and Daud were - are - heretics. She signed the warrant that gave him leave to torture Thomas.   
  
Emily shakes her head, hands clenched into fists. “He must have, or it would not have happened.”   
  
Clemente sighs, almost a scoff. “You are Empress,” he points out, “certainly you realize that you cannot control all your subjects, no matter how much you may like to try. It is the same anywhere, in any organization. Khulan can't control everyone.”   
  
Corvo moves, and Emily turns to look, startled at the sudden movement. The Crow is on his shoulder - she hadn't been there before and Emily must have been so intent on Clemente that she didn't even hear Sabina appear.   
  
“He's telling the truth, Em,” Corvo says gently, a moment later.   
  
Clemente flinches away from the Crow, and rubs his forehead with one hand. “Lord Attano, I should be arresting you.”   
  
Corvo smiles. “You're welcome to give it your best shot.”   
  
Daud shifts then, putting a quelling hand on Corvo's arm. “Enough, this isn't going to help Thomas. What can you tell us, Clemente?”   
  
“With the influx of nobility and the common people, the Overseers have been stretched to their limits attempting to maintain order,” Clemente reports. “Khulan is attempting to regain a foothold, but Delilah's magic destroyed much of the city. He put several Overseers in charge of menial tasks, or day to day projects, so he can concentrate on restoring the order.”   
  
Nodding, Daud gestures for him to continue. “And who was in charge of arrested heretics?”   
  
“First it was Overseer Parson, but he transfered. He appointed Hume in his stead.”   
  
Sabina squawks.   
  
Every set of eyes jerks to Corvo, and Emily's breath catches when Corvo's lips thin. “Overseer Hume,” he murmurs, his head tilted as though listening to someone. “He's not a believer. He tortures them anyway, seeking hollow confessions. It is all meaningless to him.” Corvo's gaze grows hard. “He lived only for Delilah, he wanted only to help her make the world bow.”   
  
Emily – freezes.   
  
She turns to face Clemente again, ice holding her spine steady. “I want that man arrested. Get me Khulan, and get rid of Hume.” She stares him down. “Now.”   
  
To his credit, Clemente only hesitates for a moment before he bows once and disappears out into the hall, leaving Emily alone with Corvo and Daud. “What does she say about Clemente?” she asks, hollow and empty.   
  
Sabina doesn't speak but Corvo says, “he believes that heresy is fleeting and should be forgiven. That it comes and goes like the wind. A gentle heart beats in his chest.” His lips quirk up in a sad, half smile. “I asked Jess, once.”   
  
Emily sits down, feeling older and more exhausted than ever. “He was my only friend,” she whispers. “When everything went - went to the Void, and I lost Alexi, and Esma, and you - Thom was the only one I could turn to.”   
  
“He's going to be fine, Em,” Corvo murmurs.   
  
She drags her gaze up to his, looking away from the floor. “I think,” she says, after a long pause, “I'm too old for lies.”   
  
“Are you too old for hope?” Corvo asks her, and he wraps an arm around her. Emily wants to lean into his embrace, let him take her weight for a little while but she can't - she can't be weak, not now, not ever.   
  
She leans away.   
  
“I might be.”   
  
Corvo opens his mouth to reply, but the operating theater doors swing open, and Sokolov steps through.   
  
He looks bone tired, weary, and there's blood on the hems of his pants. Emily's heart stops in her chest, the beat catching for the length of time it takes for Sokolov to reach them.   
  
“Anton,” Corvo says. “How is he?”   
  
“Alive, for now,” Sokolov answers. “He came to us in rough condition, and a few days more - a few hours, even - and he may not have survived.” Emily tightens her jaw on a sob. “He's undergone surgery before, and whatever philosopher hack that did it botched the job.”   
  
Daud hisses a breath between his teeth. “What does that mean, Sokolov?” he snaps.   
  
“It means the boy lost his arm, old friend,” Sokolov says, the usual harsh tones dissolving from his voice. “His left arm was taken from him at the elbow, and necrosis and dead tissue nearly took what was left.”   
  
Both Corvo and Daud go absolutely still. Emily looks down at her gloved hands, the left one concealing the Outsider's Mark. Sokolov may look mystified as to the reason for the amputation of Thomas' left hand; but Hume had obviously known about the Mark.   
  
“Any other injuries?” Corvo asks, because Emily is struck mute and Daud's jaw is so tight it looks painful.   
  
“The usual,” Sokolov says. “Whipping, lacerations, a concussion. Whatever Overseer wished to extract a confession from him, they didn't like his answer.”   
  
Emily exhales. “When can we see him?”   
  
“Soon,” Sokolov promises. “He's recovering now, and still unconscious. Once the drugs we gave him to make him sleep through the emergency surgery wear off, he'll be more likely to wake on his own. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember certain things, the concussion on top of the medication will make him forgetful for a time.”

“But he will wake?” Daud snaps.  
  
Sokolov hesitates.   
  
“I believe he will,” he finally replies, his expression weary. “He will be in a great deal of pain for some time to come, and he may never be the same again, after his ordeal. Sit with him, talk to him, let him know he isn't alone, and he may wake sooner.”   
  
Emily gets up, her left fist clenches, and she transverses behind Sokolov, slipping into the operating theater hallway before anyone can stop her. Piero is at the end of the hall and he waves her through. “He's in there,” he says without censure. “Don't touch him overmuch.”   
  
She nods once, and steps through the swinging door. Thomas is laid out on a narrow cot, metal railings keeping him hemmed in, several intravenous bags hanging from a metal hook on the wall. One is filled with glowing red elixir, another is full of the light blue Addermire solution that Hypatia had created. Still another is full of clear liquid, likely a saline drip to restore nutrients.   
  
Thomas is - thin. He looks small despite the size of the bed, dwarfed by the expanse of bruising on his face, the finger marks on his neck, and the horrible empty space on his left where his arm used to be.   
  
“Oh Thomas,” Emily whispers, and collapses into the seat next to the edge of his bed. “I'm so sorry I didn't come get you sooner. I'm sorry that this happened - and I am so, so sorry about your - your arm.” She swallows hard, fighting back tears. “Daud and Corvo came back, they're alright. And - they fixed things. We - We have m-” She cuts herself off.   
  
It doesn't matter if they have magic again. Thomas will never transverse again, or see into the darkest parts of the world with the void to shade his eyes. He'll never pause time or pull things to his hand; Emily has never seen Daud manage to Bond anyone except on their left hand.   
  
“We have magic again,” she says in a small voice. It feels like a death toll, like if Thomas could hear her, he may choose to never wake up.   
  
She sits there for hours, hardly noticing when Daud and then Corvo came to join her, murmuring to Thomas. Corvo presses a kiss to her hair, but Emily only leans into it, not returning his embrace. She doesn't look away from Thomas, and can't drag herself out of her guilt long enough to submit to the comfort they both so clearly want to give her.

Someone brings her dinner, which she picks at, listless. Emily knows she should leave the room, return to her duties - an Empress can't wallow in heartbreak, after all. She's never been given a break before, Void only knows how much is going wrong in her absence now.   
  
She can't even remember if there was a meeting today or not.   
  
When it gets too dark in the room to see, Emily finally moves, going for the whale oil lamp someone had helpfully hung by the door. Once the room is illuminated by soft purple light, Emily takes a breath, and prays.   
  
“Outsider,” she breathes, her voice hoarse from disuse. “I - I don't know if you can hear me, or if you even care, but... please. If - If you can, please let Daud give Thomas back his Mark. It makes us better, stronger, healthier. It'll give him a fighting chance.”   
  
“My, my, Corvo's daughter,” a midnight voice says from behind her. She whirls in her seat, staring wide-eyed up at the Outsider.   
  
He's sitting on top of a shelf in the corner, shrouded in darkness. The room, for a brief moment, smells of salt and whale oil and Emily swallows hard. “I - didn't think you'd come.”   
  
“My dear, why do you think I did?” the Outsider drawls, and Emily is struck suddenly that the tone - and even the words - remind her too much of her father.   
  
“Can you do it?” Emily asks, looking over at Thomas. “Can you give him the Mark? Or - let Daud do it.”   
  
The Outsider almost seems to sigh, his shoulders rising and falling. “Daud will not be able to bestow the Arcane Bond to him,” he says, looking down at Thomas. “Daud’s Mark relies on something your Thomas no longer has.”

Emily flinches. “His left hand.”

“Yes.”

She licks her lips and gathers her courage. “But - _you_ could Mark him. On his own.”

The Outsider pulls his gaze from Thomas’ form to Emily’s face. “You would have me do this without his knowledge?” he asks, and she can’t tell if he’s surprised or disapproving.

“W-Well no,” Emily subsides. “He’s Daud’s - second in command. He gained more out of the Arcane Bond than anyone else. He deserves his own Mark.”

“He’s not very interesting,” the Outsider says. “You, though - you’re very interesting, little Empress.”

Emily blinks. “Are you saying that because I'm Corvo's daughter?”

The Outsider laughs softly, his eyes shimmering in the half-light. “No.” He turns to face her, his cold marble face utterly blank. “I can see the many threads of every possibility, and this present was never meant to happen.”

“Then my mother - ?”

“No,” the Outsider cuts across her question. “Some things, little Empress, are set in stone.”

“Then - ?”

The Outsider disappears in a flume of ash, reappearing by the window. “Jessamine Kaldwin always dies, there is always a plague.” He twists long fingers through the air and the Mark on the back of her hand tingles. “Corvo Attano is always Marked, and someday - So are you.”

Emily startles. “I am?”

The Outsider doesn't answer, turning away from the windows. It throws him into stark shadow that sends a shiver down Emily’s spine. “I will offer it to him, your Thomas. That is the most I can offer you, little Empress.”

He begins to dissolve into pieces, ash dripping away to fall to disappear into shadow. “And my Mark?” She asks, loud in the sudden silence.

There's a short pause. “As you wish.”

Her hand burns.

The room somehow feels less dim when the Outsider disappears. Emily tugs off her glove, looking for differences in the Mark she once had and the one she now sports. She can find no changes in her Mark, except the mana in her system surges stronger than ever.

Emily eyes the other side of the room, and reaches her hand out. She expects to transverse, but instead, her body stretches and drags across, flowing through and around the bed.

She finds herself roughly where she aimed, the area around her undisturbed. “Well,” Thomas murmurs. “That's new.”

She whirls. “Thom!”

Thomas’ eyes slit open, and he looks over at her. “Didn't think I'd ever see you again,” he says softly.

Emily fairly launches herself back into her abandoned seat. She takes his free - only - hand. “I'm sorry it took so long,” she says, squeezing his hand.

“Don't apologize,” Thomas says, turning on the infirmary cot to face her. “I understood.” His smile is lopsided but familiar. “Tell me - are - did Daud come back?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, he and Corvo returned, they're alright.” Emily smiles, relief blooming to life in her stomach. “Things are going back to normal.”

Thomas slumps in relief, losing tension she didn't realize he was holding. “And you? You're alright?” Her answer freezes in her mouth, and concern mounts in Thomas’ exhausted eyes. “Emily? What happened?”

“Farley assigned - someone I didn't like as my Lord Protector,” she finally says. “But Daud has retaken his position now.”

“Who?” Thomas demands, but when he tries to sit up, she pushes him back down. “Damnit Em, _who_?”

“Mortimer Ramsey,” Emily answers.

At least there's no recognition at the name. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Emily says quickly. “No, he never touched me.”

Thomas tightens his grip on her hand. “I suppose it's best that Daud is back,” he murmurs, eyes sliding closed. “I'm useless to you now.”

“Shut up, no you're not,” Emily says, her voice cracking. “Thom, I missed you so much.”

It takes Thomas some real effort to open his eyes. He tugs her hand and she leans in, breath catching in her chest when Thomas presses a kiss to her palm. “Missed you too, princess.”

Emily’s eyes sting with tears and she scrubs them away. “You just concentrate on getting better, Thom.”

Thomas’ eyes slip closed and Emily switches her grip to check his pulse, unable to see his chest rising and falling under the blanket.

His heartbeat is strong under her fingers and Emily breathes a sigh of relief.

“Don't you leave me again, Thomas,” she hisses to his sleeping body. “Don't you _dare_.”

*

 _Dearest Emily,_   
  
_Though your letter pained me to receive, I understand. All I wish for you is to be safe, and I fear for your life daily. Finding you alone in the Drapers Ward only cemented those fears. Emily, I implore you, you must take your safety more seriously._   
  
_If you truly wish for me to leave you be, of course, I will adhere to your desires. You are the only person in this wretched world who matters to me - I miss the friendship we once had. I had thought we reached a point where we could trust each other, but I see now that you were simply not ready to open yourself fully to me._   
  
_Though I know my affection is no longer welcome, if this is to be our last letter, then let me close with this: my door is always open to you, Emily. I hope you remember that, in the coming days._   
  
_I enclose a parcel - a care package of sorts, if you will, to let you know that I am always thinking of you._   
  
_Always and faithfully yours,_   
_  
_ Farley Havelock

_*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Thomas returns to the Tower and requires surgery for his left arm. It was amputated at the elbow and then taken care of poorly, requiring Sokolov to remove the rest of the arm to the shoulder. (A la Bucky Barnes, from the Winter Solider.)


	6. 6. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mindy gazes at him, her eyes raking over his form. “You look like shit.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Sera, Aeniala, Estora, Taywen, Jade, and everyone who has been so supportive. I adore your comments, 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs.
> 
> This chapter earns it's Explicit rating again (Corvo and Daud deserve nice things - there's also a pretty significant change in the scene that we haven't seen from them previously - nothing particularly alarming but considering the subject matter, I'm going to add an end note so people can check it first, if they have concerns. (It _is_ about asexuality, it's spectrum and where Daud falls on it.)

“Does - Does she recognize me?” Aurelia whispers, staring at the Void-purple eyes of the Crow. 

Corvo doesn't like to lie. 

“Sometimes.” 

Aurelia flinches.

“What does she say? When she looks at me?” Aurelia has the look of someone going to the gallows, and Corvo strokes a hand across Sabina’s feathers, prompting her.

Sabina turns to regard her once-sister.  _ Don't be too quick to judge her,  _ she says after a long second. _ She is trying her best. Even if she stumbles sometimes.  _

“She says she knows you're doing your best,” Corvo murmurs.

_ She only… _ Sabina whispers, barely a cry on the wind,  _ she only did it because I - because her sister made her. _

Corvo winces, and Aurelia exhales thickly, tears gathering at her lashes. “What? Crow, please tell me. I - I can handle it.”

“The shell of - who she was… it peeks through,” Corvo says, soft. “She has regrets about making you become a witch.”

Aurelia loses the battle with tears.  She covers her face, shoulders shaking with her sobs.

Sabina makes a cry that translates pain across Corvo's nerves _. She was happy once, not so long ago,  _ Sabina says, feathers ruffling. _ But it's all wrong now, something to do with -  _ She cuts off.

“Sabina?” Corvo asks, stroking over her wings.

She turns her head, meeting his eyes with terrible sadness in hers.  _ Me _ .

She disappears with a pop, ash and feathers and ice in her wake.

Corvo sighs. “I’m sorry, Aurelia.” 

Though she’s still crying, she shakes her head, wiping her eyes. “No, Crow - Corvo - it’s… thank  _ you _ . When I woke up, and they told me Sabina had - I didn’t know what to do.” She looked down, away from him. “I still don’t. Who would hire a deaf woman?”

“We would,” Emily says from the doorway, leaning against the jamb. “It’s come to my attention that I need a lady-in-waiting, and there are precious few people I trust. How would you like a job, Aurelia?”

Aurelia stares at her. “But - I was a witch.”

“My father trusts you,” Emily says simply. “You helped him, before Delilah fell, and you know what I am already. I will find no one else I can be myself near.” Emily tugs off her leather glove, letting the Mark flare on her hand. “So you see, despite the fact that you were a witch - you already know what is to carry a Mark.”

She shoots Corvo a desperately confused look. “Take the offer, Aurelia,” Corvo suggests. “You’ll be safe here from the Overseers, and I can easily trust that you won’t turn me in, knowing your own history with magic.”

Finally, Aurelia seems to relax, nearly melting into the cot she still rests on. “ _ Yes _ ,” she breathes. “I accept the job. Thank you, Empress.”

Emily smiles, and Corvo thinks it almost looks genuine. “My friends call me Emily.”

“Emily,” Aurelia says, though she looks shocked as she says it.

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Corvo says, rising to join Emily by the door. He’s given the girl enough shocks for one day, and Aurelia still looks like she could be blown over by a stiff wind. She calls her goodbyes softly, and Corvo rests a hand on Emily’s shoulder, frowning when she flinches. “That was a good thing you did, Em.”

“It was the truth.”

Corvo is not a stupid man. He knows that something is wrong with Emily, that she’s hiding things, and suffering in silence. “I know,” he finally settles on saying. “But it was still a good thing.”

Emily shies away from his hand and Corvo’s heart breaks a little for it. “I came to find you for a reason,” she says after a second. “There have been reports of ships on the horizon, flying Karnacan colors.” 

“More supplies?” Corvo wonders.

“I don’t know - they just sent the first ship not long ago. We still have enough.” 

Corvo shakes his head. “I haven’t gotten any letters from our allies there.”

Emily smiles up at him. “Will you come with me to the Pier?”

“Of course.” It’s the first time in weeks that Emily has sought out his help, and Corvo relaxes tension he didn’t realize was in his shoulders until it was gone. “We can visit the market while we’re there,” he suggests.

Her face lights up in a grin. “Father, are you taking me  _ shopping _ ?”

“Yes, let’s do,” he says, “it’s been a long time since we managed to do that together. Shall we?” 

She hesitates but links her arm with his. “We shall.” 

Together, they make it down to the pier without issue or being stopped by the citizenry. Since Fugue, the people had become happier, and the streets bustled with long forgotten life. Corvo can still hear the whispers of the Void in his head, telling him secrets he has no interest in, but during a bright and beautiful day, it’s easier than ever to ignore the voices.

The ships is large, visible on the horizon, whale oil engines working loud enough to be heard over of the water. Corvo squinted at the ship, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.    
  
“That ship,” he says slowly, “is one of the Duke's own armada. I've seen it in the Campo Seta dockyards probably hundreds of times.”   
  
Emily frowns. “Is - Theodanis coming here?”   
  
Corvo shook his head, completely baffled. “I was not particularly great friends with the Duke or his family. We were - professional acquaintances. If he was planning to visit, he'd have no real reason to courier me a message, not that many mailboats are working between Dunwall and elsewhere.”   
  
“Does this mean our shopping trip will have to wait?” she asks, with a sigh.    
  
Though if they are correct and Theodanis is on his way, they'll need to prepare the Tower - and the rest of Dunwall for their arrival - Corvo doesn't like the sorrowful heaviness in Emily's tone, or the dejected set of her shoulders. “No,” he pronounces carefully. “They're still a good ways away, and they'll have to go through security before being able to come to the Tower. That's no reason to cut our day short.”   
  
Emily beams, and Corvo nearly chokes on his relief.    
  
Together they circle around to the small market that had popped up in bits and pieces just before Fugue, finding old shop owners with carts of trinkets and treats. Emily smiles and greets each one like an old friend, happily buying fish sandwiches and Corvo steps over to the glittering wares of a jewelry stall.   
  
“Did you make these?” he wonders, lifting the glittering pieces, and examining them.    
  
“No,” the owner says, watching where Corvo and Emily are standing with wide, surprised eyes. “They're what I could save from my shop when looters began to take over the streets.”   
  
Corvo buys two pieces; a shining silver necklace for Emily, and ring, wideset and meant for a man's finger. Emily lifts an eyebrow when she sees it, and he shoots her smile. “Don't go giving me away now,” he says, like a secret.   
  
Emily laughs, covering her mouth but her eyes crinkle up at the corners, betraying her. “I wouldn't,” she promises.    
  
When the pier alarms sound, they head back to the Tower, arm in arm, and meet Daud in the main hall. His face relaxes when he sees them, and he strides over. “I see you two have been busy today,” he drawls. “Did you have fun, Em?”   
  
Emily hands him one of the greasy breaded fish sandwiches, wrapped in newsprint. “Brought you some lunch,” she says, still smiling. “I'm sure you skipped again.”   
  
There's a vaguely guilty expression on Daud's face at that and Corvo hides a smile. “Thank you, Emily,” he says, accepting the food. “I'll eat it as soon as someone can tell me what's going on at the Pier.”   
  
“We're pretty sure it's Theodanis,” Emily reports.    
  
Daud looks apprehensive at that. “Are you certain?”   
  
“The ship is one of his armada,” Corvo adds. “But we've been gone for so long that it's possible the ship was repurposed.”    
  
“That would be something,” Daud says dryly. “We may as well head up to the throne room, then. If it is Duke Theodanis, then Curnow and Alexi will bring him and his retinue up to you.”   
  
He falls into step with them, eating the sandwich Emily had given him in quick, neat bites.    
  
“Maybe - if it is Duke Theodanis - maybe, the others came with him?” Emily asks, her eyes hopeful. “It - would be nice to see everyone.”   
  
Daud pauses, mid-bite and mid-step. “It would,” he says, and the Mark on his hand shivers, burning briefly bright enough to show through his leather gloves. “I hope you're right.”   
  
*   
  
It takes an hour for Curnow to come into the Throne room, a dazed expression on his face. “Empress,” he greets, bowing at the waist. “I have news.”   
  
“I assume it's about the ship that everyone is talking about,” Emily responds dryly. “What can you tell me?”   
  
“I am here to present Duke Theodanis,” Curnow says. “He and some of his retinue have come personally with more stocks of food.”    
  
Emily lifts an eyebrow. “Show him in.”   
  
Corvo and Daud take up positions on either side of Emily's throne, and with a short whistle, Corvo calls Sabina from where she's been sulking. She appears in the rafters, winging down to land on his shoulder, eyeing the proceedings with great suspicion.    
  
The doors to the throne room open, and Theodanis steps in. He looks - old. Tired, worn thin by age and sorrow. He walks on his own, though, his steps still even and strong. Flanking him are yet more familiar faces as Paolo and Mindy step in behind him, dressed in court appropriate clothing, instead of their ragged gang-wear.   
  
Mindy's face lights up in a grin when she sees him, and Corvo can see Paolo grab her arm. Together, the three of them walk up to Emily's throne, a respectful distance away. “Empress Emily Kaldwin,” Theodanis says warmly. “It does an old heart good to see you here.”   
  
“Duke Theodanis,” Emily replies, a small smile on her face. “It is wonderful to see you again, especially as I now am able to thank you in person for all you did for me and mine when I was in hiding in Karnaca.”   
  
Theodanis predictably waves that off. “It was no trouble at all, Empress. And no trouble still to bring you supplies you so desperately need. If I may introduce my advisors - Mindy Blanchard, and of course, Paolo Escobar.”   
  
“Escobar?” Daud and Corvo say in unison, startling from their positions.    
  
Paolo lifts an eyebrow at him. “Six years of friendship, old Crow, and you didn't know my name? I thought you knew everything.”   
  
Corvo rolls his eyes. “It's good to see you too,” he drawls. “Welcome to Dunwall.”   
  
Paolo grins.    
  
Theodanis clears his throat and Emily sits up straighter. “You honor us with your presence, Duke Abele,” she says, clearly trying to find the narrative again. “I believe we have enough surplus to show you our thanks by way of a banquet feast.”   
  
Theodanis smiles. “We brought more supplies with us - to justify the expensive of leaving Karnaca in Luca's hands for the duration, of course - but we eagerly accept your offer. It has been a long journey.”   
  
“Of course,” Emily says. “Allow us to show you to your rooms.”   
  
Callista melts out of the shadows then, a few other servants - Aurelia among them now - ready to take Theodanis to the recently renovated guest wing. Corvo slips away from Emily's side to snag Paolo's attention.    
  
“Old friend,” Paolo says, and cuts himself off as Mindy launches herself at Corvo. He catches her, expecting the embrace, and sets her on her feet easily. “She missed you.”   
  
“I missed you as well,” Corvo admits. “It's been a very long year.”   
  
Mindy gazes at him, her eyes raking over his form. “You look like shit.”   
  
“Thank you, Mindy, you're a peach too.” Corvo turns to Paolo, his arm still around Mindy's waist; which is the only reason he feels her tense when he asks: “Paolo do - are you related to a set of twins?”   
  
Paolo's easy smile is wiped away in moments. “Why?” he bites out. “Did you come across their corpses?”   
  
“Uh.” Corvo is taken aback but the harsh response, and he blinks. “No?”   
  
“So they ended up in Whitecliff. I shouldn't be surprised, none of the Overseers in Karnaca ever stay.” Paolo sighs, looking away. “The short answer is yes, Crow. Now tell me why.”   
  
Feeling like he's missing some information, he glances at Sabina.  _ He lost his wife,  _ she whispers.  _ His babes were taken - he always removes the Overseers masks before he kills them, looking for his ears, and her jawline. He has never found them. _ __   
__   
Corvo feels shock loosening his jaw, and he turns back to Paolo. “Come with me,” he insists. “I can show you to your rooms later, but you must come with me, right now.”   
  
Paolo and Mindy exchange a look. “What's this to do with my boys, Crow?” he asks tiredly. “It's been twenty years, I've long given up on finding them.”   
  
“They're not Overseers,” Corvo breathes. “Come with me. Right now.” He tugs Mindy toward the elevator.    
  
Paolo scrambles after him, hope breaking over his worn face. The elevator is tense and silent as Corvo takes them up to the infirmary where Rulfio spends his days. Rinaldo, now relieved of his duties as a Spymaster, usually stays with him.    
  
“Boys,” Corvo greets as he opens the door. “How are you feeling, Rulf?”   
  
“Better, thanks,” Rulfio answers, standing from where he was lounging on his bed. “Your bone charm has helped a lot - I'm eating more, and Sokolov says that's - oh, we have company.”   
  
Rinaldo steps over to his brother, his shoulders tense. “Is that - uh - why are the Howlers here, Corvo?” he asks.   
  
Paolo is staring at them in complete and utter shock. He takes a jerky, shuddering breath, and steps forward. “You look just like your mother,” he whispers.    
  
Rulfio jerks back. “You know our mother?”    
  
Corvo steps aside, letting Paolo fully into the room. “Boys, you may have seen them back when we were all in Karnaca, but let me introduce to you my good friends: Mindy Blanchard... and Paolo Escobar.”   
  
Rinaldo's breath catches. “Wh- D- Are you?”   
  
Paolo swallows, his throat clicking loudly. “When my boys were five, the Overseers stormed my wife's apothecary. Someone had accused her of witchcraft and heresy. The Overseers killed her and took my sons as tribute. They were five, young enough to be brainwashed and indoctrinated.” He looks up, that fragile hope that had been in his face blooming into true relief. “I've been searching for them these last twenty years.”   
  
There was a short, fraught pause. “... Dad?” Rulfio whispers.   
  
“My boys,” Paolo says, and Corvo tugs at Mindy again, withdrawing.    
  
They don't need to be here for this.

*

Daud slams him into the wall.   
  
“This is -” Corvo says, with a snort and a laugh, “becoming a habit for you.”   
  
There's a flash of a rakish grin in the dim lighting of the hall outside their room. Daud has made no secret of their sharing quarters recently and it blooms more heat in Corvo's stomach to see him so comfortably brazen. “I like the sounds you make when I do it,” Daud drawls.    
  
He's slurring a little, they both are. The wine and spirits at Emily's banquet for Theodanis ran freely and plentiful, and Corvo hasn't indulged in long enough that he'd nearly forgotten the taste of Serkonan wine.   
  
They'd both had more than their fair share, all told, but Corvo can't complain when it gets him rucked up against walls with Daud's burning heat holding him there.   
  
Daud kisses him, leaning against him, one hand hooked firmly around Corvo's thigh, the other buried in his hair. A hard curl of desire blooms to life in Corvo's gut, as Daud crushes their mouths together. He licks into Corvo's mouth, pressing against the space behind his teeth, then pulling away to leave a stinging bite on his lower lip.    
  
“Bedroom,” Corvo gasps. It was one thing to play at being caught during Fugue, wearing masks, and anonymity like a shield, but here in the Tower, it would be too easy to get caught in the hallway, and no mask could save either of them then.   
  
In answer, Daud lifts him, fingers gripping Corvo's thighs. Overbalanced, Corvo wraps his legs around Daud's waist, clinging with a yelp as Daud's Marked hand flares and the door to their bedroom is yanked open with a pulse of magic.   
  
They tumble together to the messy bed, Corvo arches when Daud's weight grinds into his growing erection. “Wait,” he pants, still clinging to Daud's shoulders. “We're – drunk.”   
  
“Yeah,” Daud grinds out, pulling at Corvo's shirt until it comes free from his trousers, and he yanks. Buttons fly everywhere, leaving the tattered remains of his shirt gaping wide to reveal his chest. “And?”   
  
“We don't have - oh - do this,” Corvo says, voice nearly giving out when Daud ducks down to press a series of small biting kisses to his collarbone and neck. “We can sleep.”   
  
Daud pulls back. “Do I look like I want to sleep right now?” he asks, dry as a bone.    
  
“You -” Corvo begins to say, trying to think past the lust and drink clouding his mind. Daud doesn't do this, even at his most comfortable, he's never been so obvious and overt with his sexual affections. It must be the drink and Corvo would sooner die than do anything with Daud that he might later regret.   
  
“Corvo,” Daud murmurs, leaning over him and kissing him with an aching gentleness at odds with his previous behavior. “I trust you.”   
  
Corvo's heart leaps. He might have responded to that, but Daud kisses him again, stealing his words and reigniting the desperation simmering in him. They struggle out of their shirts, tossing the articles of clothing on the floor behind them, and Daud drags his hands down Corvo's chest, thumbing his nipples on the way.   
  
He smirks when Corvo arches into the touch and does it again. Corvo makes a noise of protest when Daud rises off his hips to pull at his belt and tug his trousers off. Corvo took over, pushing them off and kicking them to the end of the bed. He looked up when warm skin brushed across his legs, finding Daud rising - naked - above him.    
  
“Daud?” Corvo breathes.   
  
“I trust you,” Daud says again. “You've never pushed, never - tried to do something I didn't want. I'm not - uncomfortable with you.” He leans over and kisses Corvo. “I'm good, Corvo. Still good.”   
  
“Still good,” Corvo echoes, and wraps his arms around Daud. Daud stretches out over him, kissing him intensely and their hips slide together with a friction that makes Corvo jerk his hips.    
  
Daud isn't quite hard, but he doesn't shy away when Corvo can't control the automatic motion, chasing that friction. He manages to quell the move, breathing hard. Daud smirks at him and grips Corvo's hip, tugging his thigh up so Corvo's cock - embarrasingly hard and dripping already - slots into the juncture of Daud's torso and leg.   
  
Corvo whines, hips jerking again. “Daud!”   
  
“Like this, agaisnt me,” Daud breathes, his voice catching. “C'mon. I want to see you.”   
  
He needs no more encouragment than that. Corvo leans up on his elbows to kiss Daud, their mouths slotting together, as their hips rock. The angle is perfect, it gives Corvo something to drag his cock into, and if he holds himself a certain way, he can avoid rocking his thigh into Daud's own hardening cock.    
  
He's getting close - drink and lust and the heady feeling of Daud's eyes on him dragging him there inch by maddening inch, when Daud hooks his fingers into Corvo's leg, and pulls him closer.    
  
It changes the angle, and Corvo nearly seizes in shock when their cocks grind together. “Daud?” he breathes - or tries to, it comes out as more of a whine.   
  
“It's alright,” Daud says, “today, it's - still good.”   
  
Hesitantly, Corvo begins to roll his hips.    
  
Daud rocks back down.   
  
The world dissolves in a push, pull and grind, that wipes Corvo's mind clean. He clings to Daud, pressing opened mouth - uncoordinated - kisses to whatever skin he could reach, as they rock their hips together with perfect friction.   
  
Drunk on love, wine and lust, Corvo drags his mouth from Daud's neck to his ear, and murmurs, “Love you.”   
  
Daud jerks, shock and awe and devotion on his face. “You too,” he breathes. “Still good?”   
  
Corvo arches his hips, and comes, pleasure spilling over him, making a mess between their bodies. Moments later, more heat pulses between them, as Daud finds his own orgasm. Corvo lays back on the bed, panting, sweat slick, and reaches for Daud. “Still good,” he says, soft.    
  
“I - need to go clean up,” Daud says awkwardly.    
  
Snorting, Corvo lets him go, drifting in a tipsy half-doze that he rouses from when Daud cleans him off. When Daud gets into bed with Corvo, he too is warm and dry, cleaned from their mess.    
  
Corvo breathes for a while, letting his heart rate slow down. “Daud?”   
  
“I trust you,”Daud says. “It was - alright today. Please don't ask for something like that. I don't know if I could do it, and I - don't want to fight over it.”   
  
Rolling over onto his side to look over at Daud, Corvo smiles. “Whatever you want to give me,” he says, and kisses Daud again.   
  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS:
> 
> In this sex scene, Daud has an orgasm. He and Corvo are drunk off wine, and Corvo checks in with Daud the entire time. Daud says he's comfortable enough and trusts Corvo enough not to push. 
> 
> Asexuality is a sliding scale, some people are okay with having sex with their partner for reasons (like me) and some people are no contact ever. But Daud has been inching up the scale with each scene, first by never taking his clothes off, then to taking off his shirt, then to taking off his pants, and now this. He's very clear about how he doesn't want things to change, but today, that moment, he's "still good." If this bothers anyone, please feel free to reach out to me. <3


	7. 7. EMILY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Havelock."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my beloved Dani, Aeniala, Estora, Taywen, Sasha, Lex and Sera. Speckeltail, Jade, you two get shoutouts for dragging me through this chapter by imagining your comments and messages <3 
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: Havelock.**
> 
>  
> 
> :)
> 
> As ever I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs.

The letter comes in the morning mail.

It has the same red wax seal, the flourishing JM that told her Havelock had responded to her silence with yet more letters.

With shaking fingers, Emily breaks the seal, and slides the letter out of its pristine envelope.

There was no greeting, this time, instead just more paragraphs written in angry black slashes across the page.

 _I see now that you never cared as much as I did, Emily_ , it read.

_I have been waiting patiently for your return correspondence but after my many letters have gone ignored, it has been made more than clear that you never cared about me at all. After I went to all that trouble to send you that care package - not even a letter of gratitude._

_I can’t believe you would throw away what we had, Empress._

_And yet, despite all this, I cannot bring myself to stop caring for you._

_\- FH_

Emily threw the letter into the fire, shaking with rage - and with guilt.  

The care basket that Havelock had sent the week before goes after it, all his fine chocolates and teas melting in the heat of the fire. She stands, trembling, her body switching through hot and cold in her limbs as she watches the basket ignite.

Her eyes fill with tears and she dashes them away, even angrier that watching Havelock’s gift makes her hollow chest ache with guilt.

She spins away from the fireplace, and slams out of the room, closing the door with far more force than is necessary. Emily storms her way down the hall, pushing the button for the elevator multiple times. It’s fruitless and she knows it - the elevator is slow, recovering like the rest of the tower is from the vines and disuse.

When it finally arrives, Emily steps in and pushes the pad for the infirmary floor, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the lift to make it’s slow ascent upward.

This time of morning, the infirmary is mostly deserted. Rulfio no longer sleeps there, and without him, Rinaldo has moved back into normal rooms. Aurelia has been given her own room close by Emily’s, befitting her new status as Emily’s sole lady-in-waiting. Billie is - she’s not quite sure where Billie is, but no doubt it’s close to Daud’s office.

She comes to Thomas’ room, and knocks.

There’s a long pause before Thomas says, “... Who is it?”

It takes her two tries to speak. “Emily,” she finally chokes out.

“... Come in,” Thomas says, and Emily is already opening the door, stumbling in. She’d _missed_ him beyond the telling, and now, with Havelock’s anger still burning her heart out of her rib cage, she’s so Void-damned relieved to know Thomas is back.

She comes to a screeching halt when she steps into the room.

Her jaw works for several long seconds before she turns and closes the door firmly behind her, sliding the curtains over so the hall is no longer visible. Emily takes a deep breath and turns back around.

Thomas is sitting up in bed. His bandages are in pieces, tatters, strewn across the bed. His left arm is whole and hale, all five fingers, muscle and bone working under his skin as he flexes it. “ _What_ ,” Emily breathes.

“I - had a visit,” Thomas explains, his voice barely a whisper. “From our - mutual friend.”

“He _gave you back your arm_?” Emily hisses, almost a whispered shout.

Thomas smiles ruefully. “Not as such, no.” He begins unbuttoning his shirt, and Emily nearly spins around to look away when he adds, “I want you to look, it’s alright, Em.”

Cautiously, she opens her eyes and regards him as he shrugs out of the white loose shirt. His chest is covered in scars, long marks from a whip or knives, perfect circles of burn marks scattered artfully like stars in a constellation across his pectoral muscles, and the jagged thing that shows the seam where his original arm was meant to be.

“Thomas,” she breathes.

“Just watch.”

The skin of his left arm shivers, then fades away entirely, leaving him with a - a metal arm made of jagged pieces, sharp lines, and Void magic.  He flexes the metal shard hand, and the sound it makes reminds her of the ringing tones of the empty Void, sending shivers down her spine.

“Thom - what? What is that?”

Thomas looks down, twisting his hand up so the palm is facing the ceiling. In the center of his palm is bright red gem, glinting in the half-light. When he flexes his fingers, it glows, and the image of his arm - whole, hale, _normal_ \- flows over the metal monstrosity he carries on his shoulder.

“I cannot be given a Mark,” he says, obviously a quote. “Nor could Daud give me his Arcane Bond. This is what the Outsider offered instead. The gem is a foci for the magic I would have had with the Mark, I think. So far all I can do is the illusion, and transversing - sort of.”

Emily swallows. “Can you do other illusions as well?”

Looking thoughtful, Thomas shrugs his right shoulder. “I have no idea. I just knew I couldn’t leave this room with the arm in its natural state - not and _live_.”

Thinking quickly, Emily asks, “who knows you came in without an arm?”

“Clemente,” Thomas says immediately. “Piero, Sokolov, Daud, the Crow.”

Emily hisses a breath through her teeth. “We’ll tell Piero and Anton, Daud and my father,” she says. “Anton will probably ask to study it, though.”

Thomas snorts, green eyes fond. “He can try.”

“But Clemente - he’s bringing the Overseer who did this to you, I ordered him to find Hume and bring him here for judgement with Khulan.”

With a considering noise, the skin of Thomas’ arm ripples again, and in a blink, is suddenly gone entirely, leaving his shoulder empty and blank - a seam ripped off, like a jagged hem.

The sound that comes out of her is wounded. She _hates_ seeing Thomas like this, thin and pale, and haunted. “I’ll have to wear my jacket over my shoulder, since the arm will still fill out my shirt and coat,” Thomas muses. “But this will do in a pinch if I need to see Hume, Khulan or Clemente.”

Emily nods, reaching out and touching the thin air that hides his arm. “I’m glad he could give you something.”

Thomas smiles, catching her hand with his right one, squeezing their fingers together. “Me too, Em.” She doesn’t pull away and he doesn’t let go. “You came in here like the Tower was on fire,” he prompts. “What happened?”

The guilty rage rushes back and Emily collapses on the edge of Thomas’ cot, shoulders bowing inward, hunching around her ears. “Nothing,” she chokes out. “It’s - not important.”

That makes Thomas slide forward on the cot, his legs bracketing her. He tugs at her arm, pulling her into his and his skin is so warm where Emily has been nothing but cold. He presses his lips to her temple, hand rubbing up and down her side. “You can tell me anything.”

Emily - breaks.

She sobs, curling up in Thomas’ arms, clinging to his chest. He tucks her close, no regard for propriety at all, and lets her grieve. She cries for his arm, for the last six months alone. For the sick and twisted way she feels about Havelock, and the hungry council that eats daily at her soul always asking for more of what she cannot give.

Words spill out of her, mostly nonsense, trying to give Thomas a piece of what she’s experienced, to tell him what Havelock is _doing_ but she doesn’t have the vocabulary. Everything is stripped from her, everything is a raw, open wound, and Emily doesn’t know if she’ll ever heal from the deep infection.

The tears slow, eventually, then stop entirely, leaving her even more hollow than when she started.

“Em?” Thomas asks, and she shakes her head, pressing it against the scar on his shoulder. “Em, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, hoarse and ruined. She sounds awful - this isn’t what she wanted.

“I could have fought,” Thomas points out. “Maybe I should have. Then I could have been nearby when everything went wrong.”

Emily pulls away, wiping her eyes. “No,” she protests. “No, if you had fought, they might have just killed you out right.”

Thomas looks like he wants to comment on that, but instead he pulls her back down into a hug. It’s the most she’s been touched in what feels like years.

“I didn’t - come here for this,” Emily says, summoning some kind of laugh. It sounds broken and halting but her chest is less hollow after it escapes.

“No?”

Emily takes a deep breath, looking up at Thomas. “I have something to tell you.”

Thomas scoots backward on the bed, tugging his shirt on. It covers the bulk of his arm, and the flash of the gem in the center of his palm blinds her for a moment. When she looks at it, she sees both illusion and metal, imposed over each other like a double-exposed silvergraph. She rubs her eyes, clearing away the last of the tears.

“You can tell me anything Em, you know that.”

“Yes.”

When Thomas blinks at her, she clarifies, “my answer, to the last thing - the last thing you asked me, back before everything. My answer is yes.”

To his credit, Thomas is remarkably quick on the uptake. He blinks, something shocked skating over his features, and his eyes flick to his arm. “Yes?” he checks, meeting her eyes.

Emily nods. “I know - that I’m not engaged to Farley anymore, but - yes. I want it to be you.”

“What about Alexi?” Thomas asks her, shockingly gentle.

“Alexi is - dear to me. I don’t know if what I feel for her - for you both - is the sort of thing that lasts. But I still want it to be you, Thom. I trust you.”

Thomas stands slowly, his shirt still half unbuttoned. He pivots so he’s in front of where she sits on his bed. Emily looks up, trying to read his face, trying to gauge his feelings, but Thomas is a blank slate that he learned from Daud.

Slowly, his hands, both of them, flesh and metal, reach down to tug her up to her feet.

Emily is tall, taller than most of her age, but Thomas dwarfs her still. He tilts her face up, and then he’s kissing her. It’s nothing like Alexi’s kiss, and nothing like the kisses she imagined giving the Howler boy, Wyman. This kiss is heat and intent, and _lust_ , and Emily feels like she might drown in it.

Thomas’ arm wraps around her waist and she goes willingly, slinging her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life.

He pulls back with a gasp, his mouth kiss-red and wet. Emily wants to kiss him again with a passion that shocks and consumes her. “On your birthday,” Thomas breathes. “We’ll finish this when you’re eighteen.”

“That’s not too  long,” she murmurs back, tipping her head up for another kiss. “I can wait.”

“You might change your mind by then,” he says, obliging her. This kiss is shorter, less chaste, as Thomas crushes their lips together. His tongue brushes across her lower lip and she opens her mouth for him, trying to follow his lead, tangling their tongues, and pressing up on her toes.

When she pulls away again, Emily shakes her head. It’s been a very long time since she’s gotten what she’d wanted. “I won’t,” she swears.

She’s not giving up, now.

*

Emily is hiding.

She knows she has things she must be doing, her days have only gotten busier, but after the morning of revelations and tears, she just - she can’t handle any more sly insinuations from her Council.

She’s curled up in the armchair of her mother’s secret room, listening to her mother’s old recorded audio logs.

It’s soothing to hear her voice, even dryly accounting notes from old council meetings from before the world ended.

She’s just starting to drift off when the sound of the Void rings through the room, and Sabina wings into the small space, landing on her shoulder with hard, claw tipped squeezes. “What the - ?” She startles, almost falling out of the chair.

Sabina jerks her head to the door, and when Emily doesn’t move, she flies there, sitting on the secret trigger to move the fireplace panel away.

Slowly, Emily gathers her things, stepping out into the hall with Sabina on her shoulder again, closing the room up behind her. As soon as they’re into the hallway proper, Sabina takes off again, winging down the hall and landing on a lighting fixture, waiting with a cry.

Emily can’t understand her, but she knows ‘hurry up’ when she hears it.

Sabina leads her up the stairs, climbing until she makes it to the office level.

There, she finds Daud; pacing in front of Havelock’s door, back and forth, his entire body radiating anger. “... Daud?”

“Em,” he says in relief, coming to a halt and reaching for her. “You’re alright? You’re not - tired or hurt in anyway?”

She stares at him. “No?”

That seems to relieve him even more and he hugs her, arms wrapped tightly about her shoulders. “I’ve been - we’ve been - trying to give you space to speak to us about what happened while we were gone, but now Emily, I have to ask you: did Havelock touch you?”

“ _No_!” She pulls away from him, skin crawling with the idea. “Why are you asking me this?”

Daud hesitates.

“Daud - _Dad_ \- tell me, please. I deserve to know, after everything.”

“Tell her,” Corvo murmurs, “come, Em. You should - hear this.”

She steps into her office, frowning at Daud and Corvo. She’s spent days in her office, sleeping at the desk when she’s too tired to move, or in the armchair when it’s too much effort to take the elevator up to her bedroom. She was always safer in her office, especially after Ramsey.

There’s an unfamiliar audio player on her desk, with scrolls of recorded cards, curled up in a catch. She glances over it, and feeds a card into the player, turning the crank to get it going.

“ _Pardon my fowardness, Empress, but you look - thin_ ,” Khulan says from the recorder. “ _When was the last time you slept? Ate?_ ”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Emily’s own voice whispers back to her. She sounds - horribly young. Tired.

“ _Emily_ ,” Khulan says, and she _remembers_ this conversation.

“ _I have another meeting. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice._ ”

“ _Yes, Empress. It’s been an… intriguing conversation for certain.”_

 _“What conversation?”_ Emily says on the recording.

“ _Indeed_.”

Khulan’s voice ends that portion of the recording and Emily stares down at it. “Where did you find this?” she breathes.

Daud points.

Slowly, Emily looks up at the rafters, where, hidden in shadow, nearly invisible from behind her desk, sits Sabina, Void-purple eyes the only indication she’s there.

Emily chooses another log card at random and feeds it in, mechanical, cold.

With a hiss, Thomas’ voice plays out. “ _I’d like to speak with you about something_ ,” he says and Emily’s eyes go wide. “ _I’d hoped for a better moment but I want to give you some time to think about it.”_

_“You can tell me anything Thom, of course.”_

_“I’m going to make you an offer.”_

Emily slams the crank to a stop, tugging out the audio card in abject mortification. Everything she’s said in the office was recorded. Her conversation with Khulan about her father’s heretical nature, Thomas’ offer, _Esma_ , _Alexi_. It’s all there.

“ _Who_?’ she demands.

Sabina screams, and Corvo flinches. He opens his mouth and speaks:

“Havelock.”

*

 _Dearest Emily_   
_  
I understand now that you require your space. It was my fault for pushing you into opening up to me more when you simply weren't ready for it. I should have realised that you are not used to being able to trust people - to open yourself fully to unconditional love. How can you, when you were abandoned and betrayed by Corvo and Daud?_

_I don't blame you for your inability to return my trust, Emily. I forgive you._

_The distance pains me, but whenever - if ever - you are ready to open yourself up to affection, to trust in me, I will be waiting for you. My door remains open to you, and no matter how much time passes between us, know that a door once opened can never be closed. I hope that one day you will walk through it once more._

_Always and sincerely yours,_

_Farley_


	8. 8. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corvo presses his lips together. “I’m still sorry, Emily.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Sera, Sasha, Aeniala, estora and taywen. Special thanks to taywen, Es, and Tirrathee for the help with this chapter.
> 
> **Warning: Havelock's plans are revealed in this chapter. It can be considered disturbing, however it's all subjective as nothing actually is going to happen now that he's been caught. If you are concerned, please stop reading after the asterisk, and read the Notes at the end.**
> 
> You can always find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for your needs as well.

There are few things that Corvo wishes he never knew. A number of those came after his Void powers, and the never ending secrets Jess could whisper into his ear. He’d never realized how many people in Emily’s Empire were truly without compassion until the magic.

Mostly, Corvo handles the influx of information as well as he can, forgetting what he never needed to know in the first place.

Corvo will never forget this.

When Sabina had found the audio log in the rafters, Corvo thought it was clever of Emily to put it there. Until Sabina’s screams alerted him to the contrary;  _ such corruption! Such hypocrisy! Make me look at it no more! _

He catches her when she flies into his arms, but quickly tosses her into the air. “Find Daud,” he demands. 

She disappears with a burst of air, and Corvo Blinks up to the rafters to take it down. It’s bolted to the wood - someone hadn’t wanted it to fall for any reason. It takes a great deal of bone-charm enhanced strength to pry it off, and by the time he manages it, Daud has arrived.

“What’s wrong?” Daud barks, striding into the room. 

Corvo Blinks down to Emily’s desk, holding the audio recorder. “Sabina found this,” he says, depositing it. “Emily didn’t put it there.”

“How sure are you?” 

Corvo glances at Sabina. “Pretty certain,” he answers. “All I’m getting from it is hypocrisy and corruption.”

Daud unwinds some of the audio log, running the card through. 

The machine hisses for a second before catching the recording. “...  _ ttano and Lord Daud not long before they - left, _ ” Daria’s voice says, muffled by the mask. “ _ Lord Attano encouraged me to reach out to you. _ ”

“ _ He did _ ,” Emily says, sounding confused. “ _ About what, exactly _ ?” There’s some muffled movement, and Corvo imagines that Daria is taking off her mask, when Emily gasps. “ _ Oh, you…” _

_ “Sh! Now you know.” _

_ “You’ve been hiding all this time?”  _ Emily is clearly whispering but the audio recorder has picked up her voice clearly.

“ _ I had to _ ,” Daria answers. “ _ My brother has a weak heart, he could never go through _ \--” Daud turns it off. 

They stood there, staring down at the device. “If Emily had put that there herself - why would she leave the backlog?” Daud asks.

“She wouldn’t - if it was for conversations she wanted to remember, she’d have cut down the cards herself, to keep. These are just labeled by date.” He flipped over a card, with the date scrawled haphazardly in the corner in an unfamiliar hand. ‘Esma Boyle’ was written below it. “These aren’t Emily’s. These belong to someone else.” 

Corvo jostled his shoulder, making Sabina take flight again. “Sorry, Sabina, but go get Emily.”

With a cry that sounds distinctly annoyed, Sabina flies into the shadows and vanishes. 

Daud paces, nervous energy coming off him in waves. Corvo briefly mourns the easy way he’d held himself that morning, the way he’d curled into Corvo without care. It’s always something, being back in Dunwall. 

He misses Karnaca.

He catches Daud’s wrist, halting his angry movements. “Hey,” he says softly. “She’s alright.”

“What if she isn’t,” Daud says, and there’s real fear in his voice. “We were gone for  _ months _ . Thomas was gone for  _ months _ . She would have been alone, and if Havelock -” He breaks off. “If he touched her, I’ll kill him, Corvo.”

“Emily is showing no signs of that having happened,” Corvo soothes him. He tugs Daud into a kiss, keeping it gentle. “She has spoken to Thomas about her experience without his presence, and it’s not good but it’s also not catastrophic. Let her come to us.”

Daud returns the kiss, leaning their foreheads together. “When did you get so wise, hm?” he mutters, and Corvo grins.

“I’m the Crow King, I know everything,” he drawls, which makes Daud roll his eyes so heavily he can practically hear it. 

Sabina arrows back into the room and Daud slips away from Corvo to greet Emily. Sabina is several minutes ahead of her, and Daud - without Corvo’s quelling hand - keeps pacing. When Emily finally comes down the hall, Corvo can hear Daud talking but not quite what the words are until Emily’s voice gets shrill with fear. “- tell me, please! I deserve to know, after everything.”

Corvo pushes the door open. “Tell her,” he murmurs, more to Daud. “Come, Em. You should hear this.”

When she comes into the office, she’s frowning. First at Corvo and Daud but then at the audio recorder sitting on her desk. She looks at it as though she’s never seen it before, and picks up a random card, feeding it into the machine. 

This time it’s a conversation with Khulan about her health, and Emily’s color drains so fast from her face that he thinks she might faint. She listens for several seconds, clearly remembering the original conversation, and the audio card ends. 

She stares in silence. “Where did you find this?” she finally breathes.

Daud points.

Sabina has taken the place of the audio recorder, nearly invisible except for her eyes. The recorder is matte, in the darkness of the ceiling with the electricity barely on at night, Emily would never have seen it. 

She chooses another audio log card, and turns the crank to play it.

Thomas’ familiar voice spills out, and Emily’s paleness disappears in a hot wash of red as she lunges for the card and turns it off. 

Despite the serious tone, Corvo has to wonder at her reaction. Emily rifles through the cards, flipping them over and looking at them instead of at Corvo. He sees the moment she notices the dates and names. Alexi, Esma Boyle, Darnell/Daria, Thomas, Khulan.

Slowly, Emily looks up. “Who?” she demands.

Corvo is about to tell her he doesn’t know yet but Sabina screams and over her angry, vicious sound, he hears:  _ Admiral Havelock has seen more corpses than all the rest put together. _

He flinches.

“... Havelock.”   
  
Emily freezes, the audio cards in her hands tumbling down to the desk. A muscle in her jaw works, and she takes a slow, deep breath. “Come with me.” 

It’s clearly a command, spoken in a tone that reminds Corvo far too much of Jessamine. He whistles softly and Sabina lands on his shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his jacket. He and Daud fall into step with Emily who doesn’t speak beyond her order for them to follow.

Her chest is rising and falling like a bellows, as she breathes harshly through her nose. They take the elevator down a floor, stepping out into the offices of the in-Tower council members. Thomas’ office was there, and Daud’s, as well as the one Farley Havelock occupied. 

She opens the door, and they step into the dreary room. It’s cold; with no one occupying it, the maids haven’t been stoking any fires, and without Emily’s permission, no one has gone to clean it out. 

She sits at his desk and begins pulling out drawers, dumping them on the top and searching through it. 

“What are we looking for?” Daud asks her quietly.

“Something,  _ anything _ , proof - I know where he’s staying, if we can find proof that he’s been - been betraying me, we can bring him in.” Emily’s fingers are shaking as she dumps out a pouch of coin, setting it aside. “If we don’t find anything here, we’ll try his rooms. He wasn’t given a chance to get his things. There has to be something here.”

Corvo nods, and turns to open the closet in the corner. He hears the faint singing of whalesong on the air, and follows the pull of magic. Set into the floor is a safe, the combination at four zeros. He’d reset it sometime before being ousted from the Tower.

“Emily,” Corvo calls. “Look for anything that might tell us a four digit code for a safe.”

Even with all three of them looking, and every painting cut open, every book flipped through, every inch of the desk, they still don’t find anything that resembles a code number for the safe. It seems, for once, that Havelock is smarter than all the citizens of Dunwall, who nearly always have some reminder of the codes nearby.

“Can’t you use magic?” Emily demands. 

“And do what?” Corvo asks, “I could melt the cover, but that runs the risk of destroying what’s in side. We’ll just have to - start guessing.”

Emily sighs. “Fine.” She sits on the floor of the closet and begins the laborious process of ticking each number to the next one, waiting the click of the safe. 

Sabina leaps off his shoulder, landing on the mantle by the fire. She eyes one of the pictures Corvo had already taken apart and put back, and tilts her head.  _ 1794 _ , she says. 

“Emily.”

She looks up. “Father?”

“Try 1794.”

He glances down at her progress and finds she’s only 0129. She spins each number, and when the last tumbler ticks down to four, the safe clicks, and pops open.

She gasps. “How’d you guess?”

Corvo looks back at Sabina. Her wings shifted in a shrug.  _ There was a younger brother. An artist: sensitive, soft. Taken at nine by a fever. Havelock loved him truly. _

“Havelock had a younger brother,” he says. “I think… he must have died in 1794.” 

Emily makes a face, and pulls the safe open, pulling out the papers and journal and leather satchel out. She dumps it on the desk. “I don’t want to look,” she admits. “I - I thought he was my friend. Or, if not my friend then - then at least someone I could trust.”

Daud’s lips thin, but he picks up the leather satchel and shakes it out. He and Corvo go still in unison. The satchel is full of sleep darts, the precious commodities that only skilled chemists or philosophers could make nowadays. There are twelve, perfectly preserved, their tips covered in a fine protective glass. 

“This is a small fortune,” Daud says softly. “They would cost me a hundred coin a dart back in Karnaca.”

Corvo picks up the journal, unwinding the tie that’s keeping it closed. The first few entries are useless, the journal is old, and many of the first things he flips through are dated from before the Plague and before Jessamine’s death. He skips most of the middle, seeking out the last few entries, hoping for something useful. 

When he finds it, he wishes he didn’t. Bile rises up his throat and he loses his grip on the cover, leather slipping through his fingers. “Father?” Emily asks, sharply, sorting through the papers. “What did you find?”

She reaches for the journal but he scoops it off the desk, closing it with a snap. “Emily, don’t,” he says. “You don’t want to know -  _ I  _ don’t want to know. Just give Curnow the order to bring him in, there’s more than enough proof right here.”

“Is it about me?” Emily asks, staring at him with huge, too-wide eyes. Corvo nods. To her credit, she gives it some thought, before ultimately reaching out for the journal. “I deserve to know.”

Corvo hands it over. 

Emily opens it up to roughly the same place he’d closed it, and with each pass of her eyes across the page, she grows more and more pale. She’s the color of bleached bone when she reaches the end of the journal, and she drops it on the desk, bolting away from it to be quietly sick in the adjoining bathroom.

Daud gets there first, hovering by the door. “He was never going to let me out of the marriage,” she whispers, clinging to the toilet, her shoulders shaking.

“No,” Corvo agrees, slipping up beside Daud, and putting a hand on her shoulder. It’s a tentative touch, ready to be drawn away if Emily lashes out.

“What did it say?” Daud asks him quietly.

Not quietly enough.

Emily chokes out another dry heave. “He was going to - to - drug me. With those darts you found.” She spins, and Corvo is ready for her when she throws herself into Corvo’s arms. “I trusted him, dad,” she breathes. “I - I  _ trusted _ him.”

Corvo wraps his arms around her, and lets her cry.

*

It’s not until later that Corvo tells Daud the full story. Of how Havelock had no interest in being married to an eighteen year old girl who had been raised by thieves and assassins, but only tolerated her childish whining in order to secure himself a place in the Dunwall hierarchy. 

How Havelock had planned to use those sleep darts to keep her unconscious at night in order to con one of the natural philosophers with fewer morals into artificially impregnating her. Bitterly he supposes it’s better than the alternative, but Emily alone and friendless, suddenly finding herself mysteriously pregnant? 

He can’t think of it without flickers of rage and the Void trying to choke him.

Daud is no better.  

Once Emily had stopped crying, she took the evidence straight to Captain Curnow, and shoved it at him. 

After reading the journal and the things he’d written about Emily, Curnow had mobilized the entire guard - including a livid Alexi - and sent them out for Havelock. It was only a matter of time, Curnow had assured them. Dunwall had fewer places to hide, these days.

Emily took Corvo’s hand, something she’d been submitting to only rarely, and brought him to her rooms, where she set several letters into his hand. 

Corvo hasn’t left the spot by her fire yet, watching her sleep curled up on her side on the bed. The letters made the rage flicker dangerously, and the fire in the hearth roared a little higher. “Dad?” Emily asks, and ah - she isn’t asleep after all.

“Yes,  _ tatina _ ?” he murmurs.

“Will you stay all night?”

Corvo looks away from the fire. “Of course I will.”

Emily curls up tighter on the bed, the blankets hiding her from his view. All he can see his the dark length of her hair poking up from under the layers. “I don’t think I can sleep,” she whispers eventually. “I just keep thinking - was he using the darts on me already?”

“I don’t believe so,” Corvo says, keeping his voice as low and calm as he could. “There were only twelve spaces for darts in the satchel, and none of them had been used or disturbed. I think he was waiting.”

Her head pokes out of the covers, twisted into a grimace. “Cold comfort,” she murmurs. “Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything,” Corvo says instantly even though that hadn’t been true always. Emily had clearly felt - before all this - that some things were worth hiding. Leaving for the Void had broken her trust in him, cultivated her trust in Havelock. 

Havelock is a snake, but Corvo isn’t blameless.

“Thomas offered to -  before my marriage to Havelock,” she whispers. “That’s why Havelock had him incarcerated by the Overseers.” Her breath shudders out of her. “Alexi Mayhew kissed me, and I told Thom about it, and he got - he got so angry with me for it. He told me I had to end it, and I did - I needed him on my side, dad.”

“I know you did,” Corvo soothes, moving to sit on the edge of the the bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to calm her from the hysterical pitch she was starting to reach. 

“Esma Boyle told me not to trust him, and she - he kicked her off the council so we didn’t see each other anymore.  _ He _ gave Mr. Burton the patronage of the Orphanage, which got him out of the Tower.  _ He _ gave Daria’s secret away to the Overseers.” She shivers. “All my friends, all my - allies, gone, because of him.”

Corvo hushes her, running his fingers through her tangled hair. “I’m sorry, Emily,” he says. “I should never have left for the Void.”

Emily shakes her head. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I’m glad you did.”

“You are?”

“I - he came to me. My Mark isn’t the Bond I have with Daud - had with Daud. It’s his Mark now.” Emily’s left hand slips out from under the covers. It doesn’t look any different from his own, for from Daud’s. “I’ve been too afraid to experiment,” she admits. “You shouldn’t have left me. But if you didn’t, then we wouldn’t be back to normal.” 

Corvo presses his lips together. “I’m still sorry, Emily.”

“I forgive you.”

He closes his eyes in relief. The strain in their relationship had been slowly strangling him, and he feels like he can breathe again, just a little. “What are you going to do when they bring him in?” he finally asks her. 

“I don’t know,” Emily admits. “I - I want him gone, dad. I want him to just - disappear. No one on the council is going to take my side. Leon Peverly and Dane Ambrose have been in Havelock’s corner for ever. Ichabod Boyle wants me gone, and Outsider only knows about the rest of the ones who never talk.”

“Esma Boyle is on your side,” Corvo points out. 

“One person on a council of eight? Those - aren’t good odds.”

Corvo sighs. “No, they aren’t,” he admits. “But Curnow has seen our evidence for himself, and it’s enough to put Havelock away for a very long time.”

Emily sits up, the blankets falling away from her too-thin shoulders. “I know. But…” Her voice lowers. “What if that’s not good enough?” When Corvo gestures for her to go on, she curls in on herself, looking miserable. “I don’t - feel  _ safe _ . I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

“Daud and I will do whatever we can,” he promises. It’s the least they owe her.

“I know,” she says. “And Thomas is better, too. He’ll help.” She looks up at him with luminous, tear-filled eyes. “Dad, I want to kill him.”

Corvo well remembers rage, the way he’d felt when he carved a bloody path through Cullero. He can’t blame her. “I understand,” he tells her softly. 

“If they don’t find him,  _ we  _ will,” she murmurs. “Promise me.”

He meets her gaze. 

“I promise.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Warning for Havelock is:**
> 
> **Corvo, Daud and Emily find his plans which include the detail for after Emily's marriage, wherein Havelock was going to drug her with sleep darts, and bribe a natural philosopher to artificially inseminate her. Havelock didn't want Emily, he wanted her for her child-bearing ability to get himself into the Royal line up, because, if an accident happened to Emily after her child was born, then he could raise the child and be a larger force behind the crown. It worked for Corvo, after all. He never puts this plan into application however, because Emily had not yet turned eighteen.**


	9. 9. EMILY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Emily turns around. “Outsider?” she asks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is for my beloved Dani, Sasha, Sera, Lex, Aeniala, Estora, Taywen, Jade and KitKat, everyone who has commented, reached out, sent asks or messages or left kudos. I appreciate you all so much. <3
> 
> Hold on to your butts, y'all.
> 
> [Come scream](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) I welcome it. Muwhahahaha.

 

When Thomas finds her, she’s surprised he even thought to look. Few people knew that her mother had a secret room, and she’s fairly certain Thomas isn’t one of them.

She unfolds from the armchair, staring at Thomas as he ducks through the fireplace. “Is there a button to close it?” he asks, somewhat dryly, giving her an amused look. She points, and he pulls the lever closed, sealing them in the room.

It’s not quite large enough for two people. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

Thomas flexes his fingers, covered as it is by illusion, and his eyes bleed black ink into the whites of his eyes. For a terrifying second, he has the Outsider’s blank fish eyes, and she hisses a breath through her teeth. “My own version of the voidal gaze,” Thomas answers her. “I could see you through the wall.”

“That’s cheating,” she murmurs. 

He shrugs. “Whaler.”

The wry answer draws a smile to her face and she looks up at him. “Did Daud tell you?”

“Alexi did,” Thomas admits. “Daud and Corvo didn’t want to worry me, apparently.” He wiggled his fingers again, showcasing the illusion covering his void metal arm.

Emily lifts an eyebrow. “You  _ aren’t _ supposed to be out of bed, you know.”

“As far as they’re concerned, I still am,” Thomas says, radiating a smug self-assurance. Emily’s other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I have illusions. Anyone looking into the room will see me, armless, all tucked up asleep in bed.”

“Better hope Anton doesn’t go in to give you some medication,” Emily says with a snort. “Then you’ll never hear the end of it, he’s been after my father for months now.”

Thomas’ expression morphs into something nervous before it clears. “I’ll be back before he is,” he says. “I wanted to find you.”

Emily shrugs, looking at the dusty old audio log. “I’m alright.”

“Are you?”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to just say yes again, send Thomas back to his room. His earnest expression makes her choke on the lie. “No,” she finally admits. “I’m not. I thought Far- I thought he was my friend. I thought he was the only one I could trust. To find out everything was just to - to lull me into a sense of security so he could take over the throne?” 

“I’m sorry, Emily.”

She waves that off. “It’s not your fault. You were hurt by his actions more than I was.” Thomas opens his mouth, scowling, but Emily sits up. “No, don’t argue. You were kidnapped, tortured, and betrayed. I just have a letter full of plans.”

“And what he'd planned was a violation of the highest degree,” Thomas snaps. “I'm not - alright with what I've got instead of an arm, but it's better than the alternative.”

Emily shakes her head, but doesn't refute it. “I - I know.”

Thomas pauses, and finally he sighs. “Alexi and Curnow can't find him,” he admits. “The Ramsey Estate is cleared out, and he's gone to ground.”

She sits up. “And?”

“Alexi, the twins, Crow, Daud and I are going to go on our own.”

“Not without me, you're not,” Emily says sharply. She stands, grabbing her things from the desk. “It's me he hurt, you just said. I get a chance to go after him.”

“Emily, no one is going to ask that of you,” Thomas says, and the soothing quality of his voice ignites a fire inside her.

“Perhaps you don't recall,” she says, with an wintery lift of her chin, “but I have killed before.”

Thomas looks shocked by this. He hadn't been in the building,  that day they stormed the Overseer compound for Corvo. She searches her memory for that horrible night. 

The Crow - her mother's memory - had fallen first, then Daud had staggered forward, mostly on his knees. Paolo had been there, his rats chased away by the Overseers music boxes.

“When?”

“In Karnaca,” she answers, keeping her tone sharp. “The night we stormed the Overseer compound in Batista. If I hadn't shot Overseer Martin, my father would have died.”

Thomas opens his mouth, then closes it. “Get your gear then,” he said. “We’re going tonight.”

“What about your arm?”

The fire of rage burns hotter inside her, but Emily isn't so angry that she doesn't care for Thomas.

“I'll be alright.” He smiles and it almost seems genuine. “I need the exercise.”

Personally Emily thinks he needs more rest but he's not arguing with her about going, the least she can do is give him the same courtesy.

“Tonight at what time, and where?” she asks instead. 

“Midnight, in the foyer,” Thomas reports and she can detect no lies. She may not have Corvo's talent for sensing them, or his magic that let him hear the truth, but Thomas has never fooled her. He’s never even tried.

“I'll meet you there.” She wonders for a second if she should kiss him, if that's the sort of relationship they have now, after their last conversation. Thomas solves her dilemma nicely, by catching her cold fingers in his and dropping a lingering kiss on the backs of her knuckles.

“Until tonight, Empress.”

Unlike when Ramsey said it, Thomas’ tone makes her feel warm.

*

She’s practicing, when she Reaches and finds herself in the Void.

She’s never been, but Emily remembers the way her father used to describe how the Void looked, how much it had changed. She’s fairly certain she’s never seen a sky so blue in all her life, and she’d been inside half a moment a go, after all.

Emily turns around. “Outsider?” she asks.

“Hello, Empress.”

The Outsider sits on a rock, staring out into the middle distance. Slowly, she moves to his side and sits next to him, shoulders stiff. He’s silent for so long that she looks at him. “Are you alright?”

He offers her a wan smile. “I am fine, dear Emily.”

She wishes for a brief moment that she was her mother, able to lift an eyebrow and stare down an opponent without blinking until they broke. She’s not sure if it would work on the Void God but she’s pretty sure it might. “You don’t look fine.”

The Outsider just shakes his head. “I am here to warn you.”

“Warn me?” She frowns. “I thought you didn’t - meddle.”

The look the Outsider gives her is incredibly dry. “Your father walked into death itself to return my essence to life,” he says. “I can bend the rules to save his daughter, I think.”

She licks her lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Warn me about what?”

“Havelock will isolate you. Do not let him.”

With the sound of cracking stone, Emily finds herself back her room, Alexi’s hand on her shoulder. “Em?” she asks, sounding afraid - and much like she’d been saying Emily’s name multiple times.

She blinks. “Sorry, Alexi, I was - miles away.”

“I’ll say.” She smiles at Emily, bright and shy. “I’ve missed you. I never did get to thank you properly for what you did.”

The memory of getting Alexi the promotion is sour in Emily’s heart and chest but she smiles back anyway. It made Alexi happy, even if it came from a place of malice thanks to Havelock. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she says honestly.

“It’s hard work but someday,” Alexi says with a grin, “I’ll be captain of the Guard just like Captain Curnow.”

“I believe in you,” Emily says. “Are you coming with us tonight?”

Alexi nods with a wider grin. “I asked specifically if I could be excused from patrol to help you out today.” She winks. “But Curnow thinks you asked for me for something that isn’t taking the law into your own hands.”

Emily pauses. 

“... If helping hunt him down is going to jeopardize…” she starts to say but Alexi shakes her head immediately.

“Not at all,” Alexi insists. “I think Curnow has an idea, but as long as everything happens without a scene, I think I’m safe from any reprisal.”

Emily makes a face. “And if there’s a scene?”

“I can make myself disappear,” Alexi assures her. “Emily, I want to go with you. I just  _ left _ you here with him, and I didn’t even question it.”

With a sigh, Emily pulls away. “I let you,” she says. “I engineered it. I knew you’d be leaving and I did it anyway.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Did anyone tell you  _ why _ we were going after Far- Havelock?”

Alexi tugs at her arms, pulling her into a loose embrace. “Only that he was a traitor to the Empire.”

Emily melts, leaning into Alexi. “He had an audio recorder installed in my office,” she murmurs. The entire sordid tale spills out of her, one faltering word at a time. The recorder, the scrolling cards filled with her private meetings, the letters, the horrible plan written down to the unnamed Philosopher that had never been sent.

Everything just spills out of her, how each person she’d grown close to was taken from her. 

Once the torrent of words slows and stops, Emily stares at Alexi, breathing hard. Her cheeks are wet; she hadn’t even noticed she was crying.

“That - that - absolute bastard,” Alexi breathes, and pulls Emily into a much closer embrace. “How  _ dare _ he.”

“So that -” Her voice breaks again. “That’s why we want him arrested. And that’s why we’re going after him tonight.”

Alexi laces their fingers together. “Emily can I kiss you?”

“Um,  _ yes _ ?” She blurts out, then flushes, mortified.

That only makes Alexi grin, and she leans in to kiss Emily gently. “You’re going to be alright,” she says, soft and firm. “You let Thomas and I take care of you.”

Emily is so tired of resisting help when all she wants is someone to lean on. “Yes,” she agrees. “Please.”

*

The cold dreariness finally breaks in some much needed rain, washing away some of the soot and grime from the cobblestones.

Emily pulls up her hood, tucking her hair inside it. “We already know he’s not at the Ramsey estate. No one is,” Alexi points out to Daud. “It  _ was _ the best lead, but it isn’t anymore. He could be anywhere.”

“Do we know any of his associates?” Corvo wonders, and the Crow on his shoulders caws something that makes him grimace. “Something helpful may- ow, don’t  _ bite _ .” He scowls at Sabina and shakes his head when Daud looks at him for answers. 

“Drapers Ward,” Emily says. When everyone looks at her, she stares at the ground. “He may be in Draper’s Ward.”

Thomas shrugs, pushing his soaked hair out of his face. “Good a guess as any. Let’s grab a carriage and get out of the rain.”

Safely in the carriage out of the steady drizzle, Emily turns to look out the window. “He cornered me there,” she murmurs, to all the unasked questions. “When I went to find Mr. Burton, after we found his daughter.” 

“So he might be still hanging around,” Alexi agrees. 

Daud sits up. “Oh  _ hell _ ,” he swears. When Emily turns to look at him instead of out the water-streaked window, he sighs. “Draper’s Ward is home to the Hatters, one of the gangs. They aren’t like Slackjaw, and for a while, under Delilah’s rule, they flourished.”

“And?” Thomas asks.

“ _ And _ ,” Daud stresses, “the ex-leader of the Hatter gang, Nurse Trimble, went back to the Academy of Natural Philosophy once Mortimer Hat died. Slackjaw, Burton and I ran into him when we were looking for antibiotics for Pip.”

Alexi frowns. “I don’t follow, what does that matter?”

“The letter in his journal,” Emily forces out through numb lips. “He was going to send it to a Natural Philosopher, but we kicked him out before he could. There are only a handful of Philosophers left, after Delilah… and fewer still who would agree to his - plan.”

“Exactly,” Daud says, and reaches over to clasp her shoulder. The warmth of his hand gives her the strength to sit up straighter. 

Thomas scowls. “Should have killed Trimble when I had the chance,” he grumbles. When every eye in the carriage turns to look at him he blinks in surprise. “I was a Hatter before Daud picked me up,” he says. “Lived in Drapers turning tricks and running errands for the gang until Daud caught me pickpocketing him.”

That makes Emily smile. “So you’re saying you didn’t manage it on the first try, like I did?” 

Thomas makes a face at her. “I’m sorry, princess,  _ who _ trained you?”

“Rulfio.”

Alexi snickers, and Corvo poorly hides a smile as Thomas crosses his arms over his chest. “Whose side are you on?” 

“My own,” Emily answers, smirking. 

Draper’s Ward smells like the dyes of the fashion industry again, when they get out of the carriage car. The rain hasn’t let up even a little and Emily hunches her shoulders against the chill. The Whaler’s coat is proofed against water, but the hood isn’t, and the thick fabric is sticking to her hair and skin.

“This way,” Daud says, and started leading them toward a dimly lit area of the Ward. “The Academy is at 15 Oxblood Way.”

They fall into step, walking in a tight group, keeping to the shadows. The only sounds in the entire district are the rain and their footsteps. 

A gunshot pierces the air.

There’s a shocked gasp, and Alexi stumbles. “Lex!” Emily yelps, and when Alexi turns to face her, red is blooming across her belly. 

She falls.

“Move!” Thomas shouts, and he’s suddenly at her side, spinning her away on Void scented air, and the electric sound of stun mines.

When he lets her go, Emily stumbles back into a broad chest. “Father,” she says, and freezes.

A still smoking pistol presses against her temple.

“Apologies,” Havelock drawls. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Her chest locks up. Emily can’t  _ breathe _ . She trembles in Havelock’s grip, and his hand tightens painfully on her upper arm. “You shot Alexi,” she gasps.

“I did ask you to send her away, dear one,” Havelock murmurs. “A pity you seem to have forgotten all your promises. I suppose without my presence and affection, it was easy for you to fall into old habits.”

Emily gasps, tears springing to her eyes. The safety on the pistol clicks loudly and Corvo who had been moving up toward where they stand, stills instantly. “Havelock,  _ please _ .”

“I’m quite sure I told you to call me Farley, Emily,” he says, and pulls her closer to his bulk. 

“Ha- Farley - let me go. You - you don’t want to do this,” Emily pleads, even as he drags her backwards. 

Havelock presses the pistol harder to her temple. "I'm afraid you've given me no choice, Emily. I tried to teach you, to earn your trust, but all you've done is throw everything I've done for you back in my face. And for what! Because of your actions, a very old friend of mine is dead and you keep putting yourself in danger!" He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, he sounds almost like his old self, when they sat in his office drinking tea and speaking. "... But that my fault. I should have tried harder to teach you better. You simply weren't ready to listen."

Emily’s chest catches. They’re halfway into an alley, and she can see Corvo’s left fist clench, the teal-gold flare of Power that Havelock can’t - will never - see.

_ He will try to isolate you _ , the Outsider’s warning rings in her ears.  _ Don’t let him _ .

Emily reaches for her power and prays.

The Mark on her hand blazes, and a shimmering vortex of Void and rain and terror slams into place next her. Havelock’s grip goes slack and Emily  _ Reaches _ .

She slams to a stop only a few feet away, reaching for the sword at her waist. It’s an old Whaler model, the first one Daud had ever put in her hand. He’d told her once that he hope she never had to use it.

The sword comes free with the clear tone of metal on metal. She spins, pressing out with her magic and the vortex disappears, dissolving back into her chest. 

Havelock’s eyes meet hers, and Emily buries the sword in his belly.

Blood runs over her hand. She twists the blade, a quick, sharp motion, and pulls it free. Havelock stumbles, looking horrible shocked. “Emily,” he breathes, as blood trails from the corner of his mouth. “Emily, I  _ loved _ you.”    
  
Emily lifts her chin. “The  _ hell _ you did.”

She turns away, and doesn’t watch him die.

Thomas has Alexi in his arms, and Emily races to his side. “I’m alright!” Alexi rallies. “But I think I’m off patrol for a while.” There are two empty elixir bottles at her side, and her stomach no longer seems to be oozing blood but she’s still too pale. “I can’t believe that choffer shot me.”

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Emily says, and kisses her.

When they part, Corvo and Daud are pointedly not looking at either of them and Thomas is smirking down from his position under Alexi’s torso. “Don’t mind me,” he drawls.

Emily smacks him, her hand making a wet sound against the soaked sleeve of his jacket. 

Corvo touches her shoulder. “C’mon, Em. Let’s get her back home.”

Corvo and Thomas carry Alexi between them, and it leaves her to walk with Daud. “Thanks,” she says.

“For what?”

“For teaching me how to protect myself.” The blood on her hands had washed off in the water and Emily can breathe for the first time in over a year. 

She doesn’t mind the rain so much, now.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. 10. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Finally, yes,” Corvo agrees. “You want to go?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is for my beloved Dani, for without whom I'd have long given up. For Estora, for her endless patience with me, editing my scribbles and giving me invaluable help with Havelock. For Taywen who looked over the finished product more times than I can count, and my boyfriend who literally ignored me when I tried to distract myself from writing this chapter. For every person who commented, sent me asks, messages. For tamisrandom who [drew art (for someone ELSE)](https://tamisrandom.tumblr.com/post/171395128564/second-of-my-tumblr-follower-giveaway-artworks-an), and all the friends I've made over this year and a half long journey.
> 
> Here's to you. To all of you. Thank you.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs.
> 
> Here it is. The final ~~countdown~~ chapter.

He reaches out for his magic, and twists. A pucker in the air swirls into existence directly in front of him and Corvo steps through, pulling it closed behind him.

“You aren’t supposed to be able to do that,” the Outsider says, and Corvo steps up to him, sitting down on the edge of the floating platform.

Corvo gives him a dry look. “There’s a lot of things I’m not supposed to be able to do.” He smirks. “That hasn’t stopped me.”

The Outsider looks tired. His ageless face is drawn in deep lines. “That will one day come day back to haunt you, my dear,” he murmurs.

Corvo bumps shoulders with him. “No,” he says, thoughtful. He still has a great many years to live, and with his connection to the Void, it may stretch those years out past the norm, but Corvo knows what comes after. “Do you know… what comes after?”

“After what?” the Outsider says, tilting his head to one side.

“For Jessamine. Is she - aware? Waiting? Or is there just… darkness and peace?”

There’s a long, fraught pause. “There was nothing.”

Corvo - freezes.

“Did I pull you out of that? Out of peace?” he demands, turning to stare at the Outsider.

The Outsider hesitates. “Yes,” he finally admits. Before Corvo can have a proper reaction to that, he continues speaking. “But I didn’t wish to be at peace. I wished to be here.”

It takes some effort but Corvo decides to let that one slide. “So when my time comes, will I know this darkness? The peace?”

The Outsider shakes his head. “Only if you’re removed from it.”

“So Jessamine - I’ll never see her again.”

“... No, my Corvo. I’m sorry,” the Outsider murmurs.

Corvo can’t say he’s surprised, really. He was expecting that answer. It just makes his decision easier, really. “If that’s the case, if there’s no great afterlife where my loved ones are, then - well, I know my decision now.”

The Outsider gaze snaps to his. “Corvo?”

“You said my choice was to go or stay. I’ll stay - when the time comes, I’ll stay.”

“You’d give up peace?” he demands.

Corvo presses their shoulders together. “From how you tell it, I wouldn’t notice it was peace until I was removed from it. And, I’ve never known peace. Once Emily, Daud, the others, once they’re gone if I’m never going to see them again, well. At least you’re still here.” Corvo offers him a sad smile “And, should it come to pass that I leave them first, I won’t be leaving them alone.”

The Outsider almost smiles, his lips twitching upwards. “You should get back. They’ll be looking for you.”

Corvo heaves himself off the rock. “I think that your politest dismissal yet.” He reaches into the well of magic inside him - endless, here in the Void - and _pulls_.

The portal opens with a whisper of sound like wind and whalesong, and Corvo steps through. It closes behind him, and Daud says, “was that you or him?”

“Me,” Corvo answers easily, seeing no reason to lie. “I’ve practicing.”

Daud lifts an eyebrow. “ _Should_ you be?”

“There’s no harm in it,” Corvo says. “I’m stuck with it, may as well use it.”

“One of these days,” Daud sighs. He steps forward though, tugging Corvo into a kiss. “Warn me next time, will you?”

“I can do that.” Corvo wraps an arm around Daud’s waist, pulling him closer. “Were you looking for me?”

Daud kisses his temple. “Only to see if you were free.”

“I have nothing planned,” Corvo answers him. He’d given half a thought to creating more bone charms, but Corvo has nothing but time now. With Emily out from under Havelock’s thumb, she’s eating again, sleeping - though Corvo is fairly certain that’s because of Thomas and Alexi - and she’s no longer quailing at the council meetings. “But I can see you do.”

“It’s been some time since we’ve had any time alone,” Daud murmurs.

It’s true, with Theodanis and his entourage here, none of them have had much time to themselves. Though Paolo has been spending most of is time with the Twins, with good reason. Emily has been entertaining the Duke and Mindy, though Mindy spends at least half her time with Corvo.

With the morale boost and extra food Theodanis presence has brought, Dunwall is finally on the mend.

“What did you have in mind?” Corvo asks with a grin.

Daud kisses him again.

Corvo submits to the crushing kisses without complaint, giving back as good as he’s getting. He opens his mouth under Daud’s, tangling their tongues and licking into Daud.

As they kiss, Daud starts walking him backwards to the bed, laying him down on the plush blankets. Corvo pulls Daud with him, wrapping around him. Daud laughs softly against Corvo’s mouth. “I was trying not to crush you,” he protests.

“You aren’t,” Corvo says, wrapping an arm around his waist. “At what point did I make you think I minded being pinned down by you?”

“... Fair enough,” Daud rumbles, and Corvo melts into the bed as Daud settles his weight over him. “Still good?”

“Always.” Corvo threads his fingers into Daud’s hair, rubbing his thumb against the knobs of his spine.  

Daud slides a hand down Corvo’s chest, catching and hooking on each button. The entire vest comes open easily, and Corvo arches into the touch. “Perhaps,” Daud says softly, working on the buttons of his shirt, “we will one day get the chance to do this in the daylight, with as much time as we want.”

“Like the first time, in Karnaca,” Corvo murmurs, leaning up to kiss him.

Daud smiles. “Like the first time,” he agrees. “Everything after that has been - rushed. I kept wondering if you would come back to the Hound Pits, if time would pass, and you simply would never return.”

Corvo winces. “There were too many times where I feared the same.” With Leviathan pulling him in one direction and Delilah pulling him in the other… “But we’re here now. And it might not be as warm as Karnaca, but the sun is shining today. A particular feat for Dunwall.”

“I do miss the heat,” Daud says without a trace of irony.

“I could help with that,” Corvo shoots back.

Daud laughs, ducking down and kissing him.

Corvo shrugs off his vest and shirt, tossing them off to one side. Daud runs his fingers over Corvo’s chest, tracing the new scars left by his ordeal in the Void, the ones he’d gained from accepting Delilah’s tainted magic. Thin white lines, frilled like vines, crawl across the skin of his side but Daud only traces them with fingers and too-light touches.

He murmurs appreciatively, arching into Daud’s grip.

“If by _taking our time_ , did you mean _teasing me relentlessly_?” Corvo asks.

“I do now,” Daud says, pressing a kiss to the side of Corvo’s neck.

Corvo curves into him, running a hand under Daud’s jacket. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asks, smiling.

Daud kisses him again.

Corvo leans back against the pillows when Daud urges him down, and shivers when his fingers dance over his bare chest. Daud’s face curves into a sly smile, and he feathers a thumb across one of Corvo’s nipples.

Corvo jerks like he’s been shot and groans quietly. Daud does it again. “You know, I’ve wondered if you could come from this, you’re so -” Corvo moans at another touch, cutting Daud off. “- Sensitive.”

“I didn’t used to be,” Corvo mumbles, pressing up into Daud, looking for more.

Daud presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Are you complaining?” He pinches Corvo’s nipple at the end of the sentence, and Corvo arches hard. “Didn’t think so,” Daud says, when Corvo can only cry out and writhe. “I’m going to do this, and just this, until you tell me you want to come.”

His voice is so matter-of-fact, and Corvo whines, biting back a louder sound. It’s been so long since he’d laid in bed and just touched, no rushing or hurrying. The last time, the real last time he’d been with someone with no urgency was Jessamine and Emily had been eight.

He nods, relaxing back into the bed. “Do your worst,” he murmurs with a smile.

Daud’s face is serious when he looks Corvo over. “I’ve spent a good many years doing my worst, Corvo,” he murmurs. “I think it’s time I did - and showed you - my best.”

Corvo softens, and leans up to tug Daud into a heartfelt kiss. “You already are.”

In answer, Daud drags his hands down Corvo’s chest and scraped them over Corvo’s nipples. Electricity skates through him and Corvo twitches, jaw falling open on a loud cry.

Daud begins rolling his fingers over the hard points of Corvo’s nipples, teasing them into sensitive peaks. Goosebumps spiral away from Daud’s fingers, crawling across his skin. Daud chuckles and pinches, hard.

Corvo cries out, hips working against the air, looking for stimulation or something to rub against. The way Daud is laying against his side means he has nothing to grind on, and his cock presses hard against the button fly of his trousers.

“I can’t,” he gasps, as Daud rolls his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t come from this, Daud, c’mon.”

Daud doesn’t take pity on him, and pins Corvo’s hips down with his knee, holding him to the bed as his hands torment his sensitive skin. “It’s only been twenty minutes,” he chides.

“I’m so close,” Corvo breathes; he can feel his heartbeat pounding in his cock, twitching against the seam of his pants, trapped. Corvo is wracked with shivers, desperate and twisting with every press of Daud’s hands. “ _Void_ , Daud,” he murmurs.

“Can I help you, Corvo?”

Corvo tries to give him a baleful look, but Daud slides his hand across the bulge in his pants, and his words break into a low cry.

Finally, after another minute that lasts an age, Daud pulls Corvo out of his trousers, stroking once. “ _Daud_ ,” he breathes.

“You know why I can do this?” Daud asks him, tracing his fingers over Corvo’s cock. “Why touching you has never - bothered me?”

Corvo makes an interrogative noise, beyond words.

“Because you trust me - _me_ \- after everything, after everything I’ve done, all the things I’ve caused. You lay here beneath me, and let me touch you and you never stop me, you never hurry, or push. Even after -” He trails off, kissing Corvo again. “Even after Fugue.”

Corvo shakes his head. “No,” he agrees. “Wouldn’t push you.”

Daud curls his fingers around Corvo’s cock. “That’s why I -” he cuts off and grimaces.

Despite the pleasure pounding through him, Corvo reaches for Daud. “I know,” he says. “You don’t have to say it.”

“Yeah,” Daud murmurs. “Still good.”

Corvo grins. “Still good.”

Daud begins stroking him, rapid, hard touches just shy of perfect. Corvo arches, muffling his cry into his pillow, as he finally comes.

Eventually Daud gets up, getting a damp cloth to clean them up with, laying across Corvo. He leans over him and kisses Corvo, cradling the back of his head.

“Am I interrupting something?” Billie says dryly from the balcony.

Daud sighs.

“Hello, Billie,” Corvo says, sitting up on his elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Her grin a lethal flash of teeth in her face. “I’ve been experimenting,” she drawls, and under a black cloth glove, the imprint of the Outsider’s Mark flashes.

Corvo glances at Daud, who smiles a bit sheepishly. “It seemed - right.”

Sitting up the rest of the way, Corvo crosses his arms over his chest. “Not that I’m not pleased for you, but why exactly are you sitting on our balcony?”

“Well I had to wait for you two to finish,” Billie says.

Corvo has the distinct pleasure in watching Daud blush. “Billie,” he grumbles. “Just - what?”

“I thought you should know that Emily snuck out of her window and used her strange magic to sneak into a pub,” she said. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the building and it seems fine, but, you might want to send the bird.”

Pausing, Corvo looks up at the ceiling where Sabina is sitting on the hanging light, her head tucked under a wing. “Which Pub?” he asks.

“The Black Pony,” Billie answers. “The one closest to the Tower.”

Corvo shrugs. “She’s fine,” he says. “That’s where Slackjaw - Azaraiah Filmore - has stationed himself. Slackjaw wouldn’t let anything happened to her, considering all the trouble he went to trying to protect her before.”

Billie’s nose wrinkled. “He’s a notorious gang leader.”

“He’s trying to be a respectable businessman,” Corvo says with a shrug. He leans over the side of his bed, fishing for his shirt and shrugging it back on.

“If you say so.” Billie nods to them, her expression fond, before she Blinks away, dissolving in ash and smoke.

Corvo sighs, leaning against Daud’s side. “We’re going to have to learn to lock the doors,” he murmurs.

Daud laughs.

*

Emily comes back on her own, looking flushed and happy. She gives Corvo a hug of her own volition, and something tense in his chest unclenches and relaxes. “Thanks for not making me leave the Black Pony,” she whispers. When Corvo raises an eyebrow, she smiles, shaking her head. “I knew Billie was there. I figured when she left she was going to go get you.”

“She did,” Corvo agrees. “But when she told me where you were, I knew you’d be safe with Slackjaw.”

That makes her smile, beaming up at him. “Alexi and Thomas met me for dinner there,” she says.

“I’m glad you had fun.” Corvo wraps an arm around her and leading her away from the throne room, up towards the elevator to the royal floor. “How are you feeling?” he asks, once they’re alone in the elevator.

She hesitates. “I - I’m alright,” she eventually says. The strange, inconsistent magic inside his head pings with her lie but Corvo doesn’t correct her, waiting her own. “I’m - getting there. It’s hard, sometimes.”

That is truth, at least.

“You know you can tell me anything, and I’ll do what I can to help you,” he reminds her gently.

Emily looks at him. “Dad - Father - I know. I _do_ know, but… It’s hard to trust you.” The fact that it’s not a lie drives a knife through his chest. “I really needed you, and you went to the Void. I know you had to, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t need you too.”

“Em…” Corvo murmurs.

“I’m not mad,” she promises. “I used to be, but I don’t know if that was Far - Havelock’s influence or not.” She makes a face. “There’s a lot of  things I felt that might have belonged to him. But, Piero says that the best way to get rid of poison is to excise the wound.”

Corvo leads her out of the elevator. “He’s not wrong.”

“I know.” Emily leans into his side. “It’s really difficult but I’m trying.” She looks up at him. “Fa-Havelock used every emotion I had and turned it against me. Anger became hysterics, sadness became drama. But I’m trying.”

Havelock died too quickly.

Emily goes to her room, unlocking the door and leading Corvo through. “I _am_ sorry, Em,” he says, once the door is closed behind them.

“I know,” Emily says. “And I mostly forgive you.”

That makes Corvo snort softly. “Mostly?”

She sits in a chair close to the fireplace. “Forgiveness is a slow process,” she says, clearly quoting someone.

Corvo nods. “That, that I can understand.” He’s thinking of Jessamine and her anger in the Void, Daud’s quiet acceptance that he’d never earn hers. “I came to find you for a reason, though. Aurelia came to let me know that they’ve gotten the paint and blood off the gazebo. I thought we could bring Jessamine some flowers from the garden.”

Emily sits up, eyes wide. “It’s clean?”

“Finally, yes,” Corvo agrees. “You want to go?”

“Yes!” She scrambles off the chair, getting her long jacket and shrugging it on. “It was too difficult to go see her, when that - garbage was all over it.”

“For me as well,” Corvo murmurs. “Blinking?”

Emily grins. “Reaching,” she agrees.

They chase each other down the side of the Tower, landing in the courtyard out of sight of the main doors. The wind was chilly, but Corvo barely felt it. Emily went into the garden, avoiding the rose bushes that had grown out of control, and gathering small clusters of blue flowers that Corvo didn’t recognize.

“Am I invited to the garden party?” Daud asks from a few feet away. His eyes are on the gazebo where Jessamine’s headstone is, and he seems nervous. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers twitching.

“I don’t think she’d mind,” Corvo answers.

Daud joins him, submitting to the hug Emily gives him when she comes out of the overgrown garden. She hands him a cluster of her flowers, and then hands the other third of them to Corvo. “What are they?” Corvo asks, peering at the small blossoms.

“Forget-Me-Nots,” Emily answers.

Corvo’s heart clenches, and together, all of three of them step up to the gazebo. Emily lays down her flowers first, murmuring something to Jessamine that the wind snatches away before Corvo can hear it.

Corvo kneels at her side, laying down his set of flowers. “Jess,” he murmurs. “I hope that - wherever you ended up, you’re safe and happy and at peace. I’m sorry I kept you by my side for so long. I’ll see you again, someday.”

He’s still kneeling there when Daud joins him, scattering the Forget-Me-Nots across her name in the stone. “Thank you,” he says, not bothering to whisper. “For giving me your blessing.”

Emily’s breath catches.

“I appreciate that you gave me even the slightest chance,” Daud goes on. “And I hope one day, you can have them back. Don’t worry. I’ll keep them both safe, for you.” He gives Corvo a warm look. “They make it easy.”

Corvo kisses him. As soon as they separate, Emily wraps her arms around him, hugging them both tightly.

They spend several more minutes there, kneeling in front of Jessamine’s headstone. Corvo gets up first, lifting Emily and then Daud to their feet. “I think,” he says, “we deserve a vacation.”

Emily grins up at him. “Theodanis will be leaving soon,” she says. “Maybe we could go with him?”

“It would be nice to get the rest of the whalers,” Daud agrees.

Corvo grins broadly. “To Karnaca?” he asks them.

“Back to Karnaca,” Daud agrees.

* 

the end

(And yes, they lived happily ever after)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story had a lot of themes that weren't always comfortable. Havelock started his manipulation way back in Gathering, and escalated slowly through Song. It was pointed gaslighting, emotional manipulation and it is something that many people are dealing with every day outside of fanfiction.
> 
> If you're concerned that perhaps someone in your life is being manipulated or you yourself are, there _are_ resources out there for you. [This is one of the ones I used for Havelock.](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/communication-success/201407/how-recognize-and-handle-manipulative-relationships)
> 
> Everyone, stay safe out there. You're not alone. 
> 
> Thank you. I love you.


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